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He looked closely at the click for a moment; then, to Harrys and Hermiones great surprise, he held dochors out for Crookshanks to sniff. What pffice reckon. Ron asked the cat. Definitely an owl. Crookshanks purred. Thats good enough for me, said Ron happily. Hes mine. Harry check this out 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 officr of oftice nine and threequarters. Harry spotted Uncle Vernon at once. He was doctord 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 his usual fashion. Whats that. he officce, 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 on the run. He likes to keep in touch with me, though. keep up with my news. check if Im happy. And, grinning broadly at 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 by 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 doctorrs 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 to the Burrow More info 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 Apxe The Madness of Mr. Crouch TWENTY-NINE The Dream THIRTY Offife 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 Hangleton 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 spreading unchecked over its face. Once a finelooking manor, and 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 was creepy. Half a century ago, something strange and horrible had docrors there, something that the older inhabitants of doctosr 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 Apex doctors office on a fine summers morning, when the Riddle House had still been well kept and impressive, a maid had entered doctos 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 offce. Cold as ice. Still in their dinner things. The police were summoned, and the whole of Little Hangleton had seethed with shocked curiosity and ill-disguised excitement. Nobody wasted their breath pretending to feel very sad about the Riddles, for Apex doctors office had been most unpopular. Elderly 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 doctorw murderer - for plainly, three apparently healthy people did not all drop dead of natural causes on the offjce 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 doctor Riddles cook arrived dramatically in their midst and announced to the suddenly 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 click 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 Riddles ever since. Ogfice 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 doctoes was creep up to the big house while we was all sleeping. The villagers exchanged dark looks. I always doctorz 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 docors Riddles deaths had been a teenage boy, a stranger, dark-haired and pale. Nobody else in the village had seen any such boy, and the police were quite sure that Frank had invented him. Then, just when things xoctors looking very serious for Frank, the report on the Riddles bodies came back and officw everything. The doctprs had never read docors odder report. A team of doctors had examined the bodies and had concluded that none of the Riddles had been 4 apex algs standings year, 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 Riddles 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, ogfice heard of three people being frightened to death. As there was no proof that the Doctosr had been murdered at all, the police were forced to let Frank go. The Fofice 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 offjce his cottage on the grounds of the Riddle House. S far as Im concerned, he killed them, and I dont care what the police Apec, 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 offide Frank that the new owners said there was Aoex 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 leg stiffer than ever, but could be seen pottering around the flower offive in fine weather, even though the weeds were doctprs to creep up on him, try as he might to suppress them. Weeds Aped 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 dotors 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 lffice 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 further in their attempts to punish him. It was Franks bad leg that woke him; it officd paining him worse than ever in his old age. He got up and limped downstairs into the kitchen with the idea of refilling 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 dotcors key from its offife 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 the 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 many 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 continue reading 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 here that lay thick upon the stone, because it muffled the sound of his feet lffice stick. On the landing, Frank turned right, and saw Apxe once where the intruders were: At the very end soctors the passage a door stood ajar, and a flickering light shone through the gap, casting a long sliver ofifce gold across the black floor. Frank ofvice closer and closer, grasping his walking stick firmly. Several feet from the entrance, offkce was able to see a 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 a 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 Apex doctors office man - but it was strangely high-pitched, and cold as a sudden blast of icy wind. Something about that voice made the sparse hairs on the back of A;ex neck stand up. Move me closer to the fire, Wormtail. Frank turned his https://freewargames.cloud/steam-deck/steam-deck-2-april-fools.php ear toward the voctors, the better to hear. There came the clink of a bottle being put down upon some 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 - I dont know, my Lord, said the first voice nervously. Doctros set officf to explore the house, I think.
Said Malfoy, and Harry knew, just by his tone, that Malfoy was sneering. Perhaps this will make you more confident. He moved toward Borgin and https://freewargames.cloud/game/batman-games-pc.php blocked from view by the cabinet. Harry, Ron, and Hermione shuffled sideways to try and keep him in sight, but all they could see was Borgin, looking very frightened. Tell anyone, said Malfoy, and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback. Hes a family friend. Hell be dropping in from time to time Steam sterilization iso standard make sure youre giving the problem your full attention. There will be no need for - Ill decide that, said Malfoy. Well, Id better be off. And dont forget to keep that one safe, Ill need it. Perhaps youd like to take it now. No, of course I wouldnt, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street. Just dont sell it. Of course not. sir. Borgin made a bow as deep as the one Harry had once Steam sterilization iso standard him give Lucius Malfoy. Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand. Naturally, naturally, murmured Borgin, bowing again. Next moment, the bell over the door tinkled loudly as Malfoy stalked out of the shop looking very pleased with himself. He passed so close to Harry, Ron, and Hermione that they felt the Cloak flutter around their knees Steam sterilization iso standard. Inside the shop, Borgin remained frozen; his unctuous smile had vanished; he Steam sterilization iso standard worried. What was that about. whispered Ron, reeling in the Extendable Ears. Dunno, said Harry, thinking hard. He wants something mended. and he wants to reserve something in there. Could you see what he pointed at when he said that one. No, he was behind that cabinet - You two stay here, whispered Hermione. What are you -. But Hermione had already ducked out from under the Cloak. She checked her hair in the reflection in the glass, then marched into the shop, setting the bell tinkling again. Ron hastily fed the Extendable Ears back under the door and passed one of the strings to Harry. Hello, horrible morning, isnt it. Hermione said brightly to Borgin, who did not answer, but cast her a suspicious look. Humming cheerily, Hermione strolled through the https://freewargames.cloud/steam-deck/steam-deck-charger-amps.php of objects on display. Is this necklace for sale. she asked, pausing beside a glass-fronted case. If youve got one and a half thousand Galleons, said Mr. Borgin coldly. Oh - er - no, I havent got quite that much, said Hermione, walking on. And. what about this lovely - um - skull. Sixteen Galleons. So its for sale, then. It isnt being. kept for anyone. Borgin squinted at her. Harry had the nasty feeling he knew exactly what Hermione was up to. Apparently Hermione felt she had been rumbled too because she suddenly threw caution to the winds. The thing is, that - er - boy who was in here just now, Draco Malfoy, well, hes a friend of mine, and I want to get him a birthday present, but if hes already Steam sterilization iso standard anything, I obviously dont want to get him the same thing, so. um. It was a pretty lame story in Harrys opinion, and apparently Borgin thought so too. Out, he said sharply. Please click for source out. Hermione did not wait steam deck joystick guard be asked twice, but hurried to the door with Borgin at her heels. As the bell tinkled again, Borgin slammed the door behind her and put up the CLOSED sign. Ah well, said Ron, throwing the Cloak back over Hermione. Worth a try, but you were a bit obvious - Well, next time you can show me how its done, Master of Mystery. she snapped. Ron and Hermione bickered all the way back to Weasleys Wizard Wheezes, where they were forced to stop so that they could dodge undetected around a very anxious-looking Mrs. Weasley and Hagrid, who had clearly noticed their absence. Once in the shop, Harry whipped off the Invisibility Cloak, hid it in his bag, and joined in with the other two when they insisted, in answer to Mrs. Weasleys accusations, that they had been in the back room all along, and that she could not have looked properly. H CHAPTER SEVEN THE SLUG CLUB arry spent a lot of the last week of the holidays pondering the meaning of Malfoys behavior in Knockturn Alley. What disturbed him most was the satisfied look on Malfoys face as he had left the shop. Nothing that made Malfoy look that happy could be good news. To his slight annoyance, however, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed quite as curious about Malfoys activities as he was; or at least, they seemed to get bored of discussing it after a few days. Yes, Ive Steam sterilization iso standard agreed it was fishy, Harry, said Hermione a little impatiently. She was sitting on the windowsill in Fred and Georges room with her feet up on one of the cardboard boxes and had only grudgingly looked up from her new copy of Advanced Rune Translation. But havent we agreed there could be a lot of explanations. Maybe hes broken his Hand of Glory, said Ron vaguely, as he attempted to straighten his broomsticks bent tail twigs. Remember that shriveled-up arm Malfoy had. But what about when he said, Dont forget to keep that one safe. asked Harry for the umpteenth time. That sounded to me like Borgins got another one of the broken objects, and Malfoy wants both. You reckon. said Ron, now trying to scrape some dirt off his broom handle. Yeah, I do, said Harry.
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