Picture by David Vargo
"But he hasn't said thank you at all!" said Hestia indignantly. "He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!"
"Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like an 'I love you'," said Harry, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley as if he had just saved Harry from a burning building.
"In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."
Harry could not help but agree with the unknown Thicknesse.
"I won't blast people out of my way just because they're there," said Harry. "That's Voldemort's job."
"Harry, he's taking over the Ministry and the newspapers and half the Wizarding world! Don't let him inside your head too!"
"The sooner this wedding's over, the happier I'll be."
"Yeah," said Harry, "then we'll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes...It'll be like a holiday, won't it?"
"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour.
"No, I'm not," retorted Hermione. "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!"
"You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It's time you learned some respect!"
"It's time you earned it," said Harry.
The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.
"You got it?" shouted Ron, raising himself a little higher on his pillows. "No one tells me anything! Blimey, you could have mentioned it!"
"Well, we were running for our lives from Death Eaters, weren't we?" said Hermione.
The life he had lost had hardly ever seemed so real to him as at this moment, when he knew he was about to see the place where it had been taken from him.
The sun was coming up: The pure, colorless vastness of the sky stretched over him, indifferent to him and his suffering.
"Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again! And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!"
"You've sort of made up for it tonight," said Harry. "Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life."
"That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was," Ron mumbled.
"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was," said Harry. "I've been trying to tell you that for years."
"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."
"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except…except for the Mudblood."
Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.
"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!"
Bellatrix hit him across the face; the blow echoed around the room.
"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book."
"But he hasn't said thank you at all!" said Hestia indignantly. "He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!"
"Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like an 'I love you'," said Harry, torn between annoyance and a desire to laugh as Aunt Petunia continued to clutch at Dudley as if he had just saved Harry from a burning building.
"In short: Pius Thicknesse thinks he's got you cornered good and proper."
Harry could not help but agree with the unknown Thicknesse.
"I won't blast people out of my way just because they're there," said Harry. "That's Voldemort's job."
"Harry, he's taking over the Ministry and the newspapers and half the Wizarding world! Don't let him inside your head too!"
"The sooner this wedding's over, the happier I'll be."
"Yeah," said Harry, "then we'll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes...It'll be like a holiday, won't it?"
"Are you planning to follow a career in Magical Law, Miss Granger?" asked Scrimgeour.
"No, I'm not," retorted Hermione. "I'm hoping to do some good in the world!"
"You may wear that scar like a crown, Potter, but it is not up to a seventeen-year-old boy to tell me how to do my job! It's time you learned some respect!"
"It's time you earned it," said Harry.
The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.
"You got it?" shouted Ron, raising himself a little higher on his pillows. "No one tells me anything! Blimey, you could have mentioned it!"
"Well, we were running for our lives from Death Eaters, weren't we?" said Hermione.
The life he had lost had hardly ever seemed so real to him as at this moment, when he knew he was about to see the place where it had been taken from him.
The sun was coming up: The pure, colorless vastness of the sky stretched over him, indifferent to him and his suffering.
"Look what he asked from me, Hermione! Risk your life, Harry! And again! And again! And don't expect me to explain everything, just trust me blindly, trust that I know what I'm doing, trust me even though I don't trust you! Never the whole truth! Never!"
"You've sort of made up for it tonight," said Harry. "Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life."
"That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was," Ron mumbled.
"Stuff like that always sounds cooler than it really was," said Harry. "I've been trying to tell you that for years."
"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback."
"Wait," said Bellatrix sharply. "All except…except for the Mudblood."
Greyback gave a grunt of pleasure.
"No!" shouted Ron. "You can have me, keep me!"
Bellatrix hit him across the face; the blow echoed around the room.
"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next," she said. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book."
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