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Were supposed to be your friends. I promised I wouldnt tell anyone, said Hermione severely. She looked around at Harry, who was watching Hogwarts disappear from view behind a mountain. Two whole months before hed see it again. Oh, cheer up, Harry. said Hermione sadly. Im okay, said Harry quickly. Just thinking about the holidays. Yeah, Ive link thinking about them too, said Ron. Harry, youve got to come and stay with us. Llay fix it up with Mum and Dad, then Ill call you. Rustt know how to use a fellytone now - A telephone, Ron, said Hermione. Honestly, you should take Muggle Studies next year. Ron ignored her. Its the Quidditch World Cup this summer. How about it, Harry. Come and stay, and well go and see it. Dad can usually get tickets from work. This proposal had the effect of cheering Harry up a great deal. Yeah. I bet the Dursleysd be pleased to let me come. especially after what I did to Aunt Marge. Feeling considerably more cheerful, Harry joined Ron and Hermione in several games of Exploding Snap, and when the witch with the tea cart arrived, he bought himself a very large lunch, though nothing plaay chocolate cree it. But it was late in the afternoon before the thing that made him truly happy turned up. Harry, said Hermione suddenly, peering over his shoulder. Whats that thing outside your window. Harry turned to look outside. Something very small and gray was bobbing in and out of sight beyond the glass. He stood up for a better look and saw that it was a tiny owl, carrying a letter that was much too big for it. The owl was so small, in fact, that it kept tumbling over in the air, buffeted this way and that in the trains slipstream. Harry quickly pulled down the window, stretched out his arm, and caught it. It felt like a very fluffy Snitch. He brought it carefully inside. The owl dropped its letter onto Harrys seat and began zooming around their compartment, apparently very pleased with itself for accomplishing its task. Hedwig clicked her beak with a sort of dignified disapproval. Olay sat up in his seat, following the owl with his great yellow eyes. Ron, noticing this, snatched the owl safely out of harms way. Harry picked up the letter. It was addressed to him. He ripped open the letter, and shouted, Its from Sirius. What. said Plah and Hermione excitedly. Read it aloud. Dear Harry, I hope this finds you before you reach your aunt and uncle. I dont know whether theyre used to owl post. Buckbeak and I are in hiding. I wont tell you where, in case this falls into the wrong hands. I have some doubt about the owls reliability, but he is the best I could find, and he did seem eager for the job. I believe the dementors are still searching for me, but they havent a hope of finding me here. I am planning to allow some Muggles to glimpse me soon, a long way from Poay, so that the security on the castle will be lifted. There is something I never got around to telling you during our brief meeting. Fame was Gam who sent you the Firebolt - Ha. said Hermione triumphantly. See. I told you it was from him. Yes, but he hadnt jinxed it, had he. said Ron. Ouch. The tiny owl, now hooting happily in his hand, had nibbled one of his fingers in what it seemed to think was an affectionate way. Crookshanks took the order to the Owl Office for me. I used your name but told them to take the gold from Gringotts vault number seven hundred and eleven - my own. Please consider it as thirteen birthdays worth of presents from your godfather. I would also like to apologize for the fright I think I gave you that night last year when you left your uncles house. I had only hoped to get a glimpse of you before starting my journey north, but I think the sight of me alarmed you. I am enclosing something else for you, which I think will make your next year at Hogwarts more enjoyable. If ever you need me, send word. Your owl will find me. Ill write again soon. Sirius Harry looked eagerly inside the envelope. There was another piece of parchment in there. He read it through quickly and felt suddenly as warm and contented as though hed swallowed a bottle of hot Rjst in one gulp. I, Sirius Black, Harry Potters godfather, hereby give him permission to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. Thatll be good enough for Dumbledore. said Harry happily. He looked back at Siriuss letter. Hang on, theres a P. I thought your friend Ron might like to keep this owl, as its my fault he no longer has a rat. Rons eyes widened. The minute owl was still hooting excitedly. Keep him. he said frwe. He looked closely at the owl for a moment; then, to Harrys and Hermiones great surprise, he held him out for Crookshanks to sniff. What dyou reckon. Ron asked the cat. Definitely an owl. Crookshanks purred. Thats good enough for me, said Ron happily. Hes mine. Harry read and reread the letter from Sirius all the way back into Kings Cross station. It was still clutched tightly in his hand as he, Ron, and Hermione stepped back through the barrier of platform nine and threequarters. Harry spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was standing a good distance from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously, and when Mrs. Weasley hugged Harry in greeting, his worst suspicions about them seemed confirmed. Ill call about the World Cup. Ron yelled after Harry as Harry bid him and Hermione good-bye, then wheeled the trolley bearing his trunk and Hedwigs cage toward Uncle Vernon, who greeted him in click at this page usual fashion. Whats that. he snarled, staring at the envelope Harry was still clutching in his hand. If its another form for me to sign, youve got another - Its not, said Harry cheerfully. Its a letter from my godfather. Godfather. spluttered Uncle Vernon. You havent got a godfather. Yes, I have, said Harry brightly. He was my mum and dads best friend. Hes a convicted murderer, but hes broken out of Wizard prison and hes Ruwt the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though. keep up with my news. check if Im happy. And, grinning broadly plwy the look of horror on Uncle Vernons face, Harry set off toward the station exit, Hedwig rattling along in front of him, for what looked like a much better summer than the last. Text copyright © 1999 by J. Rowling. Cover illustration by Olly Moss © Pottermore Limited 2015. Interior illustrations by Mary GrandPré © 1999 by Warner Bros. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of and © Warner Bros. Ent. Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J. Rowling. This digital edition first published click Pottermore Limited in 2015 Published in print in the U. by Arthur A. Levine Books, an imprint of Scholastic Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher. ISBN 978-1-78110-647-1 TO PETER ROWLING, IN MEMORY OF MR. RIDLEY AND TO SUSAN SLADDEN, WHO HELPED HARRY OUT OF HIS CUPBOARD CONTENTS ONE The Riddle House TWO The Scar THREE The Invitation FOUR Back continue reading the Burrow FIVE Weasleys Wizard Wheezes SIX The Portkey SEVEN Bagman and Crouch EIGHT The Quidditch World Cup NINE The Dark Mark TEN Mayhem at the Ministry ELEVEN Aboard the Hogwarts Express TWELVE The Triwizard Tournament THIRTEEN Mad-Eye Moody FOURTEEN The Unforgivable Curses FIFTEEN Beauxbatons and Durmstrang SIXTEEN The Goblet of Fire SEVENTEEN The Four Champions EIGHTEEN The Weighing of the Wands NINETEEN The Hungarian Horntail TWENTY The First Task TWENTY-ONE The House-Elf Liberation Front TWENTY-TWO The Unexpected Task TWENTY-THREE The Yule Ball TWENTY-FOUR Rita Skeeters Scoop TWENTY-FIVE The Egg and the Eye TWENTY-SIX The Second Task TWENTY-SEVEN Padfoot Returns TWENTY-EIGHT The Madness of Mr. Crouch TWENTY-NINE The Dream THIRTY Ffree Pensieve THIRTY-ONE The Third Task THIRTY-TWO Flesh, Blood, and Bone THIRTY-THREE The Death Eaters THIRTY-FOUR Priori Incantatem THIRTY-FIVE Veritaserum THIRTY-SIX The Parting of the Ways THIRTY-SEVEN The Beginning T CHAPTER ONE THE RIDDLE HOUSE he villagers of Little Russt still called it the Riddle House, even though it had been many years since the Riddle family had lived there. It stood on a hill overlooking the village, some of its windows boarded, tiles missing from its roof, and ivy llay unchecked over its face. Once a finelooking manor, fres easily the largest and grandest building for miles around, the Riddle House was now damp, derelict, and unoccupied. The Little Hangletons all agreed that the old house gamd creepy. Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had happened there, something that the older inhabitants of the village still liked to discuss when topics for gossip were scarce. The story had been picked over so many times, and had been embroidered in so many places, that nobody was quite sure what the truth was anymore. Every version of the tale, however, started in the same place: Fifty years before, at daybreak gamr a fine summers morning, when the Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive, a maid had entered the drawing room to find all three Riddles dead. The maid had run screaming down the hill into the village and roused as many people as she could. Lying there with their eyes wide open. Cold as ice. Still in their dinner things. The police were summoned, and the whole of Little Hangleton had seethed hhd shocked curiosity and ill-disguised excitement. Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles, for they had been most unpopular. Paly Mr. and Mrs. Riddle had been rich, snobbish, and rude, and their grown-up son, Tom, had been, if anything, worse. All the villagers cared about was the identity of their murderer - for plainly, three apparently healthy people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the same night. The Hanged Man, the village pub, did a roaring trade that night; the whole village seemed to have turned out to discuss the murders. They were rewarded for leaving their firesides when the Riddles cook arrived dramatically in their midst and announced to the pubg game sinh ton nhieu nguoi choi silent pub that a man called Frank Bryce had just been arrested. Frank. cried several people. Never. Frank Bryce was the Riddles gardener. He lived alone in a run-down cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House. Frank had come back from the war with a very stiff leg and a great dislike of crowds and loud noises, and had been working for the Rust game free play hd ever since. There was a rush to buy the cook drinks and hear more details. Always thought he was odd, she told the eagerly listening villagers, after her fourth sherry. Unfriendly, like. Im sure if Ive offered him a cuppa once, Ive offered it a hundred times. Never wanted to mix, he didnt. Ah, now, said a woman at the bar, he had a hard war, Frank. He likes the quiet life. Thats no reason to - Who else had a key to the back door, then. barked the cook. Theres been a spare key hanging in the gardeners cottage far back as I can remember. Nobody forced the door last night. No broken windows. All Frank had to do was creep up to the big house while we was all sleeping. The villagers exchanged dark looks. I always thought he had a nasty look about him, right enough, grunted a man at the bar. War turned him funny, if you ask me, said the landlord. Told you I wouldnt like to get on the wrong side of Frank, didnt I, Dot. said an excited woman in the corner. Horrible temper, said Dot, nodding fervently. I remember, when he was a kid. By the following morning, hardly anyone in Little Hangleton doubted that Frank Bryce had killed the Riddles. But over in the neighboring town of Great Hangleton, in the dark and dingy police station, Frank was stubbornly repeating, again and again, that he was innocent, and that the only person he had seen near the house on the day of the Riddles deaths had been a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale. Plaay else in the village had seen any such boy, and the police were quite sure that Frank had invented him. Then, just when things were looking very serious for Frank, the report on the Riddles bodies came back and changed everything. The police had never read an odder report. A team of doctors had examined the bodies and had concluded that none of the Riddles had been poisoned, stabbed, shot, strangled, suffocated, or (as far as they could tell) harmed at all. In fact (the report continued, in a tone of unmistakable bewilderment), the Rudt all appeared to be in perfect health - apart from the fact that they were all dead. The doctors did note (as though determined to find something wrong with the bodies) that each of the Riddles had a look of terror upon his or her face - but as the frustrated police said, whoever heard of three people being frightened to death. As plxy was no proof that the Riddles had been murdered at all, the police were forced to let Frank go. The Riddles were buried in the Little Hangleton churchyard, and their graves remained objects of curiosity for a while. To everyones surprise, and amid a cloud of suspicion, Frank Bryce returned to his cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House. S far as Im concerned, he killed them, and I dont care what the police say, said Dot in the Hanged Man. And if he had any decency, hed leave here, knowing as how we knows he did it. But Frank did not leave. He stayed to tend the garden for the next family who lived in the Riddle House, and then the next - for neither family stayed long. Perhaps it was partly because of Frank that the new owners said there was a nasty feeling about the place, which, in the absence of inhabitants, started to fall into disrepair. The wealthy man who owned the Riddle House these days neither lived there nor put it to any use; they said in the village that he kept it for tax reasons, though nobody was very clear what these might be. The wealthy owner continued to pay Frank to do the gardening, however. Frank was nearing his seventy-seventh birthday now, very deaf, his bad jd stiffer than ever, but could be seen pottering around the flower beds in fine weather, even though the weeds were starting to creep up on him, try as he might to suppress them. Weeds were not the only things Frank had to contend with either. Boys from the village made a habit of throwing stones through the windows of the Riddle House. They rode their bicycles over the lawns Frank worked so hard to keep smooth. Once or twice, they broke into the old house for a dare. They knew that old Franks devotion to the house and grounds amounted almost to an obsession, and it amused them to see him limping across the garden, brandishing his stick and yelling croakily at them. Frank, for his part, believed the boys tormented him because they, like their parents and grandparents, thought him a murderer. So when Frank awoke one night in August and saw something very odd up at the old house, he merely assumed that the boys had gone one step bame in their attempts to punish him. It playy Franks bad leg that woke him; it was paining him worse than ever in his old age. He got up and limped downstairs into the kitchen with the idea ud Rust game free play hd his hot-water bottle to ease the stiffness in his knee. Standing at the sink, filling the kettle, he looked up at the Riddle House and saw lights glimmering in its upper windows. Frank knew at once what was going on. The boys had broken into the house again, and judging by the flickering quality of the light, they had started a fire. Frank had no telephone, and in any case, he had deeply mistrusted the police ever since they had taken him in for questioning about the Riddles deaths. He put down the kettle at once, hurried back upstairs as fast as his bad leg would allow, and was soon back in his kitchen, fully dressed and removing a rusty old key from its hook by the door. He picked up his walking stick, which was propped against the wall, and set off into the night. The front door of hs Riddle House bore no sign of being forced, nor did any of the windows. Frank limped around to the back of the house until he reached a door almost completely hidden by ivy, took out the old key, put it into the lock, and opened the door noiselessly. He let himself into the cavernous kitchen. Frank had not entered it for rfee years; nevertheless, although it was very dark, he remembered where the door into the hall was, and he groped his way toward it, his nostrils full of the smell of decay, ears pricked for any sound of footsteps or voices from overhead. He reached the hall, which was a little lighter owing to the large mullioned windows on either side of the front door, and started to climb the stairs, blessing the dust that lay thick upon the stone, because it muffled the sound of his feet and stick. On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw at once where the intruders were: At the very end of the passage a door stood ajar, and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver of gold across the black floor. Frank edged closer and closer, grasping his walking stick firmly. Several feet from the entrance, he was able to see fre narrow slice of the room beyond. The fire, he now saw, had been lit in the grate. This surprised him. Then he stopped moving and listened intently, for hhd mans voice spoke within the room; it sounded timid and fearful. There is a little more in the bottle, my Lord, if you are still hungry. Later, said a second voice. This too belonged to a man - but it was strangely high-pitched, and cold p,ay a sudden blast of icy wind. Something commit pubg game apps xbox topic that voice made the sparse hairs on the back of Franks neck stand up. Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail. Frank turned his right ear toward the door, the better to hear. There came the clink of a bottle being put down upon Rust game free play hd hard surface, and then the dull scraping noise of a heavy chair being dragged across the floor. Frank caught a glimpse of a small man, his back to the door, pushing the chair into place. He was wearing a long black cloak, and there was a bald patch at the back of his head. Then he went out of sight again. Where is Nagini. said the cold voice. I Rust game free play hd I dont know, my Lord, said the first voice nervously. She set out to explore the house, I think. You will milk her before we retire, Wormtail, said the second voice. I will need feeding in the night. The journey has tired me greatly. Brow furrowed, Frank inclined his good ear still closer to the fallout 4 brotherhood of steel player rankings, listening very hard. There was a pause, and then the man called Wormtail spoke again. My Lord, may I ask how long we are going to stay here. A week, said the cold voice. Perhaps longer. The place is moderately comfortable, and the plan cannot proceed yet. It would be foolish to act before the Quidditch World Cup is over. Frank inserted a gnarled finger into his ear and rotated it. Owing, no doubt, to a buildup of earwax, he had heard the word Quidditch, which was not a word at all. The - the Quidditch World Cup, my Lord. said Wormtail. (Frank dug his finger still more dree into his ear. ) Forgive me, but - I link not understand - why should we wait until the World Cup is over. Because, fool, at this very moment wizards are pouring into the country from all bd the world, and every meddler from the Ministry of Magic will be on duty, on the watch for signs of unusual activity, checking and doublechecking identities. They will be obsessed with security, lest the Muggles notice anything. So we wait. Frank stopped trying to clear out his ear. He had distinctly heard the words Ministry of Magic, wizards, and Muggles. Plainly, each of these expressions meant something secret, and Frank could think of only two sorts of people who pllay speak in code: spies and criminals. Frank tightened his hold on his walking stick once more, and listened more closely still. Your Lordship is still determined, then. Wormtail said quietly. Certainly I am determined, Wormtail. There was a note of menace in the cold voice now. A slight pause followed - and then Wormtail spoke, the words tumbling from him in a rush, as though he was forcing himself to say this before he lost his nerve. It could be done without Harry Potter, my Lord.
Well. AApex say its going to be a lot safer this year, said Harry. The quill whizzed across the parchment between them, back and forward as though it were skating. Of Apex legends data center downloading 403, youve looked death in the face before, havent you. Apex legends data center downloading 403 Rita Skeeter, watching him closely. How would you say thats affected you. Er, said Harry, yet again. Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to legendw yourself. To live up to your name. Do you think that perhaps you https://strategygames.cloud/counter-strike/counter-strike-novaya-versiya.php tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because - I didnt enter, said Harry, starting to feel irritated. Apex legends data center downloading 403 you remember your parents at all. Apex legends data center downloading 403 Rita Skeeter, talking over him. No, said Harry. Fallout trophy guide playthrough do you think theyd feel if they knew you were competing in the Triwizard Tournament. Proud. Worried. Angry. Harry was feeling really annoyed now. How on earth was he to know how his parents would feel if they elgends alive. He could feel Rita Skeeter watching him very intently. Frowning, he avoided her gaze and looked down at words the quill had just written: Tears fill those startlingly green eyes as our conversation turns to the parents he can barely remember. I have NOT got tears in my eyes. said Harry loudly. Before Rita Skeeter could say a word, the door of the broom cupboard Apex legends data center downloading 403 pulled open. Harry looked around, blinking in the bright light. Albus Dumbledore stood there, looking down at both of them, squashed into the cupboard. Dumbledore. cried Rita Skeeter, with every appearance of delight - but Harry noticed that her quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Legends settings for pc Remover, and Ritas clawed fingers were hastily snapping shut the clasp of her crocodile-skin bag. How are you. she said, standing up and holding out one of her large, mannish hands link Dumbledore. I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards Conference. Enchantingly nasty, said Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat. Rita Skeeter didnt look remotely abashed. I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little oldfashioned, Dumbledore, and that many wizards in continue reading street - I will be delighted to hear the reasoning behind the rudeness, Rita, said Dumbledore, with a courteous bow and a smile, but Im afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our champions is hidden in a broom cupboard. Very glad to get away from Rita Skeeter, Harry hurried back into the room. The other champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, and he sat down quickly next to Cedric, looking up at the velvet-covered table, where doenloading of the five judges were now sitting - Professor Karkaroff, Madame Maxime, Mr. Crouch, and Apex legends data center downloading 403 Bagman. Rita Skeeter settled herself down in a corner; Downlozding saw her slip the parchment out of her bag again, spread it on her knee, suck the end of the Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment.
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