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"You are with me," said Dumbledore simply. "This will do, Harry."

Harry chuckled and both Dumbledore and Slughorn looked round at him.

"Keep your wand at the ready, Harry," he said brightly.

"Cissy, you must not do this, you can't trust him--"

Now the burning feeling was in his throat too. He wished Ron would look away.

致機關、事業單位人員的倡議書

If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the . Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you.

"Albus Dumbledore," said Dumbledore, when Uncle Vernon failed to effect an introduction. "We have corresponded, of course." Harry thought this an odd way of reminding Aunt Petunia that he had once sent her an exploding letter, but Aunt Petunia did not challenge the term. "And this must be your son, Dudley?"

"Still here somewhere? Yes."

"Maybe not," said the Prime Minister, standing up and striding about the room, "but I would have put all my efforts into catching the blackmailer before he committed any such atrocity!"

"But for heaven's sake--you're wizards! You can do magic! Surely you can sort out--well--anything!"

@青神人青神縣疫情防控“十個不得”請您自覺遵守

"Nah," said George gloomily. "Nothing like that. Stupid git. He wouldn't have the brains."

Pigwidgeon was once again hidden under Rons dress robes to stop him from hooting continually; Hedwig was dozing, her head under her wing, and Crookshanks was curled up in a spare seat like a large, furry ginger cushion. Harry, Ron, and Hermione talked more fully and freely than they had all week as the train sped them southward. Harry felt as though Dumbledore's speech at the Leaving Feast had unblocked him, somehow. It was less painful to discuss what had happened now. They broke off their conversation about what action Dumbledore might be taking, even now, to stop Voldemort only when the lunch trolley arrived.

A second tongue of flame shot from the wand and interlinked with the first, making a fine, glowing chain.

Harry wasn't sure whether he liked Slughorn or not. He supposed he had been pleasant in his way, but he had also seemed vain and, whatever he said to the contrary, much too surprised that a Muggle-born should make a good witch.

"No, yeh're not," said Hagrid. "Course yeh're not. But yeh will be."

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"I was Head of Slytherin," said Slughorn. "Oh, now," he went on quickly, seeing the expression on Harry's face and wagging a stubby ringer at him, "don't go holding that against me! You'll be Gryffindor like her, I suppose? Yes, it usually goes in families. Not always, though. Ever heard of Sirius Black? You must have done — been in the papers for the last couple of years — died a few weeks ago —"

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"He'd have me!" said Bellatrix passionately. "I, who spent many years in Azkaban for him!"

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The Prime Minister's first, foolish thought was that Rufus Scrimgeour looked rather like an old lion. There were streaks of gray in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a certain rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a slight limp. There was an immediate impression of shrewdness and toughness; the Prime Minister thought he understood why the Wizarding community preferred Scrimgeour to Fudge as a leader in these dangerous times.,

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"That can be rearranged," said the portrait at once. The Prime Minister's heart sank. He had been afraid of that.;

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