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Signed Padfoot

he found it increasingly difficult to write. The many changes sucked away what was left of human actions and features, leaving room for more and more wild.
wrote to Harry, Sirius, hidden in a grove not far from the village of Hogsmeade. Stealing you need to be an old village postman, took care to keep alive the unique and exclusive social contact they had, escaping for a few moments to life by dark beast and sought after.
Being careful not to tear the parchment, he wrote: Dear Harry

,
I hope you are well and that the concerns of the first round of the tournament are become certainties. I heard the clash with the spin overheard a conversation in the Three Broomsticks. Fantastic, I'm proud of you! I only regret not being there to cheer in the stands, like the others.


cleaned the drool from the parchment, he forced himself to keep his lips tight and went on

me not doing well, and I can not hide that he is tired of fleeing, of being tied to my animal features, and more I'm tired of all the weight of loneliness. I do not want to give you trouble, Harry, but I want to be honest, so no lies, I just want a relationship built on truth, always, as transparent as possible. It 's important that you know. This is not the life I want - away from you - but I promise that one day everything will change, and we no longer feel tainted letters through the froth. I give you my word and my paw!

Sirius smiled. A bitter smile, a shadow of happiness. However, full of hope. When he wrote to Harry, part of the frustration disappear, and that was why he tried to make the most intense moments as possible ... To be forgetting the dog, and remember the man he was.
finished writing the letter telling of his days wandering through Hogsmeade, trying to keep as much as possible the steady hand on the sheet and fill up those last few lines of irony:

You know, Harry, their food is not so bad if you feed them a good customer of the Hog's Head. The other day I spent the morning in his company. Dog, of course, but I must admit that playing the role of the puppy and be left scratching their ears with a lovely lady, I must admit, is not that bad!

He made a sound that sounded gloomy in the cave where he was together with Buckbeak. Mistook it for a laugh. Finally wrote greetings to Harry, signing the parchment with its footprint. And a post scrittum:

Reply soon, as soon as you can.

Padfoot.

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Outside stairs

As every morning, Harry was woken by a puff of dust on the nose.

To get into the kitchen to have breakfast with his cousin Dudley was concerned always jumping up and down the stairs, so the cupboard under the stairs - Harry's room - is filled with annoying drafts and dust.

Dudley loved teasing Harry, loved to torture him, loved him even criticized by his father when he had faults, and each occasion was good to have fun at the expense of the cousin, now adopted in Dursley house for many years. And this was probably to make Dudley so accustomed to teasing, jealousy, the protection of their environment, like a wild animal that chases the intruder to turn.

In the kitchen, as usual, Harry was involved in the preparation of breakfast, with the experience of recent years had become pretty good at preparing meals from Dudley.

was Sunday. Also that morning had come into the kitchen in silence, ignored by his uncle who was reading the newspaper, from Dudley who watched cartoons on TV and Aunt Petunia that stretched out her neck like a giraffe out of the window, spying on the neighbors.

"Breakfast," said Harry. So the Dursleys sat at the table and began to eat. A Harry touched the remains of Dudley, which was always small, but had to adapt, he knew well.

"Boy, you know what to do," muttered Uncle Vernon in Harry stood up from the table and cleaning up crumbs from his whiskers biscuits.

For Harry, Sunday was cleaning day in the garden. Remove the weeds, mow the lawn, water the geraniums were the duties of his aunt on Sunday that occupied most of the day for Harry. Hated him, but again had to adapt, he knew.

After the lunch break, Harry returned to deal with weeds in the garden of the driveway. It was a tedious task - the more boring the rest of the work to the gardener - and tried not to think about fantasizing about Dursley, imagining them grappling with the disparate domestic accidents. But to attract the attention of Harry, that afternoon, there was no daydream about uncles.

While rooting the grass and collected in a basket, his eyes fell on an owl perched on the chimney of the house opposite. He had ruffled feathers and dark, and clutching a letter in its beak ...

Harry left for a moment the basket with the weeds, and crossed the driveway to look better. Yes, it was a letter! At that point, the owl flew with a rustle of wings, and after a semicircle around the chimney, landed at the feet of Harry, who was impaled near the letterbox of the neighbors. The owl snapped the beak, dropping the letter, then, with a rustle of wings, flew away, to disappear in the cloudy sky.

started to rain when Harry returned home, tired but curious about the letter, now hidden in jeans as a precaution. Harry had not yet opened, but the address was very clear: "To Mr. Harry Potter, the driveway of number four, Privet Drive, Little Winging, Surrey."

That was one of the most important days of Harry's life. That letter would have led to change their lives. To live. The most important day ... Finally out from under the stairs .

...

I want to dedicate this excerpt of a story (written, you can see, to commit an evening on the treadmill going) to people who do not like the fable, who believes the importance of small things. Treasures, which you can hold on forever, and make better any time worst. A "letter" that can change everything, at any time.

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Dear Padfoot,
Hope you are well. It gets cold here. Winter is finally upon us. Although I returned to Hogwarts, I feel more alone than ever. I know you, more than anyone else, you'll understand. It 's strange, isolated from the world and at the same time to know that someone at your side, is willing to be your friend and do everything for you.
are days I feel anger invade, and I'm afraid of hurting my friends. Why does this happen to me? I also find it unbearable to live with all the items that the Ministry puts around on me and Dumbledore. I am weak, and that's what would Voldemort. But lately I find it hard to trust people. Once you told me that we all have light and dark inside. And if my share of darkness was taking over? If I were to choose not to, but He, for me?
To make matters worse was that new Ministry hag. He stuck his nose everywhere. E 'incorrect irritant. Even Dumbledore does not seem to have any say in it, although I think he's plotting something, something that only he knows. But the hag in the meantime continues to humiliate and discredit the school's teachers. It 's like a spy, the only difference being that does not bother to do things in secret. E 'bold, and all the hate, even people like Professor McGonagall.
Fleeced, these are the moments that make weighing your absence. Although I have Ron and Hermione, and Hagrid, I miss your words and your expression is still convinced that things will sooner or later, are settled. And, I confess, that more than once, I happened to approach the fire thinking of coming to make a jump to the number 12 ...

I know it's irritating to hear it, but is' out of trouble.
Take care.

Harry

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Young

Jedediah was the smallest group of boys who lived near Emerald Hill.
always remained on the sidelines, passing the time watching others do the knot under the old willow tree that hung over the hill. But occasionally, the group of boys preferred to retreat into old abandoned houses. An old house, away from the town and adjacent to the cemetery, was the favorite place for "secret meetings". The so called Jedediah; and did not dare to approach them when those guys - between eleven and eighteen years - preferred to occupy the hot summer afternoons in the house, away from heat and green meadows. But
Jedediah had always been curious. He tried to imagine what would attract the boys inside the house surrounded by vegetation nell'aspra summer. But despite this, he had never dared to think of spying on the guys, maybe some hole between the boards worn, or broken glass.
One afternoon in late August, however, Jedediah decided to venture alone in the house, before the arrival of others. Past the abandoned garden, tried to force the front door, and was surprised to find it open, without chains or padlocks to barricade the entrance.
The house smelled of old, and it was dirty and empty and ugly. There were a few chairs scattered here and there and nothing else. Jedediah went to different rooms: the kitchen, study, guest bedroom. Jedediah
At one point he thought that it was late and it was better to go home. He tried to return to the front door, but suddenly he heard voices coming from the garden. They approached the entrance. Voices full of emotion.
- Today we'll make it, I'm sure.
- Cloud, you said the same thing yesterday and the day before yesterday and yesterday again. Jedediah
started to get scared. On the other hand was only six years. What would have happened if they had discovered? He knew that his presence was not welcome. He knew the group of children from Emerald Hill. He hid in an empty room, hoping to find a way to leave the house without undetected.
The boys entered the dining hall, Jedediah heard them, and could see them peeking through a crack in the wall. The room where he was coincided with the exhibition.
- Do not delay, start - a dark spoke of the older boys. The boys
spear pieces of thin wood of various sizes. A green light appeared from the tip of each one, then, forming a circle in the air, the beams were joined to form a single, larger and brighter. The boy began to speak in a strange language, chanting words that Jedediah could not understand.
- Osclero Irrigation Daring! I love the Dark Lord! Osclero Irrigation Daring!
The green flash lit up the room completely. Glittered, crackled in the air. And exploded, shaping a thick cloud of black smoke. The cloud
throbbed. The boys watched with eyes wide with fear. Only the guy who had yelled the strange phrases seemed to have no fear of that vision. Unlike the others, his expression was satisfied and happy - we did it - he said. - Here, the mark is our Black Now! -
The cloud had suddenly turned into a huge skull wound between the coils of a large snake. In silence, the boys raised their arms. Some trembling, others taking the look down. The skull and the snake exploded in a roar. The lightning struck precisely that gushed into the arms of children. Screams and the smell of burnt skin mingled in the air saturated with dark smoke.
Jedediah was afraid. He wanted to run away far away, but he was nailed to the wall. Could not suppress a scream of fright at the sight of burned forearms and marked the boys.
- Is there anybody! - Said a blond-haired boy. - Bombs! -
The wall separating the dining room the hiding place of Jedediah jumped in the air. Among the dusts, the blond-haired boy took Jedediah arm. Jedediah continued to feel pain and fear, more and more. He heard the voices of the boys ask him why he was there, while the saloon had become indistinguishable and blurriness. Lost consciousness.
he woke up on his knees in the middle of the hall, surrounded by children.
- Nobody will know this afternoon - said the big guy turned to Jedediah. - Crucio! - Jedediah
thought the nightmares, the screams of his mother when his grandmother died in hospital after a serious illness, the storms that made him so scared, no matter what horror incutesse and anxiety. He could not think of anything else. She screamed, she felt far and near, as he felt twinges of pain in the chest and temples. He muttered words he had not even imagined, something inside him made him scratch his face with his nails.
Suddenly everything stopped. She felt the dust streams invade the nostrils and lungs, trying to breathe as fast as possible. Still on his knees.
- Nobody will know this afternoon - he repeated the boy's voice, just before shouting "Avada Kedavra" in the direction of Jedediah.

Local newspapers wrote that the child had died after an insect bite while he ventured into the old house of Malfoy. But subsequent analysis of autopsies the death never gave any confirmation.

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Eaters Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

not want to be a review, but only a personal comment about the movie saw it yesterday.

course contains spoilers.

Comments superficial and fast these days on the sixth film invaded any means of communication. Further confirmation that the name of Harry Potter is a phenomenon, an event. But we already knew that, right?

The adaptation of the book has convinced me. Discounted, useless, impossible to expect a film without cuts. The two blocks were the most sacrificed Gaunt and the origins of the Prince, the first totally non-existent, the second treated with little attention. However, at least the absence of Gaunt, in my opinion it can be justified, and for the economy of the plot does not hurt that much. Yates is the problem of wanting to lose - I do not know what would - in the less important scenes, the entr'actes, splitting the film dark and tense with (too) silly jokes and actions, are so special that are part of the history and atmospheres, but must be at the expense of the plot, and inevitably are the resulting cuts. And reducing the share of the other secondary characters. Yates continues to invade the scenes of comedy, which we can be, but the good thing too, always. The way she remembers Mike Newell, the forerunner of this style. Way of doing business that makes it all so ...

The recitation of Radcliffe seemed to me a little better the last two films (pitiful), even though I recognize that it's still a piece of wood. Good (as always), Grint and Watson, the first for a spontaneous way to play Ron Weasley, the second for a confirmation in recitative, in the part of jealous Hermione softly. Praise also to Tom Felton, at ease in the role impanicato Draco and psychologically devastated, and the two young actors who embody the memories Voldemort. Apart from Snape (perfect and smooth this time) and Gambon (too much like Gandalf the Grey and light years away from Dumbledore's books and the first two films), the rest of the cast appears very old, unfortunately. While the newcomer Jim Broadbent proves to be perfectly in the spirit of the character of Slughorn.

In terms of set design and photography is satisfied and enlightened. The spectacular scenery and visual effects. The characteristic atmosphere of the places described in the books is often made good as never before, with expressively at Hogwarts, the rickety stairs of the Burrow, Ron cozy room, the screams of joy in the lounge, not to mention the wonderful and gigantic joke shop of Fred and George. The details were noted more than in other films. A meticulous work to bring the flavors on the screen and the small nuances of great books.

soundtrack in this sixth chapter is a serious offense. A convenient recycling of parts of the fifth film and some references to the old themes of John Williams music. A few good point, but the effective weight of melodies you hear.

The inclusion of new scenes is a great idea, and does not damage or prejudice the story. The initial attack by Death Eaters and the fire of London Tana tense moments are reminiscent of what is the air we breathe beyond the confines of Hogwarts. New scenes that are sure to throw into the mix the likes of Tonks and Lupin, totally apart for the rest of the film.

conclusion, I liked the film, the emotion was there, and all in all it was as I imagined. The failure to see a film that does justice to the book for me was never a problem. The plot has changed, all agree on this, but that's okay for me. It will not objective, that will not take much ... I just look at the Hogwarts castle and some effect Special to stay happy and andarme away with the fantasy for two and a half hours, which is also what I'm trying to be this film.

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Back to Shell Cottage

In life, there are few faithful friends. The real ones, which would give my life for you, those who would kill you also, for the boundless capacity to defend itself and the immense affection. Lucky enough to find friends and have a side so it does not happen at all, a happy place in which to find help and always will to live.
I dedicate this story - who also wants to be a small celebration of cinema from tomorrow to the next chapter in the rooms - a single character. Maybe the most beautiful, out of the fantasy of Jo Rowling: Dobby the house elf. A symbol (perfect) fidelity.

*

It was near Shell Cottage alone. It was all so real, but Harry knew that he was in one of his dreams, a mist enveloping everything, the air of sleek gray.
The sound of the sea was the only sound around the rest of the sounds (wind, birds in the sky, the swaying of the trees) were acoustically isolated, perhaps the fault of the fog. Harry was quiet, and walked around the house watching every detail. Moving away from home ended up sitting on a rock, just a hundred yards away.
was concentrated in his thoughts when a small, muffled explosion startled him. From a puff of smoke on his right he saw a creature emerge all ears and eyes and pointed nose ...
- Dobby! - Exclaimed Harry. The elf gave a big smile - Harry Potter, sir! -
looked at each other for a few seconds without saying a word, then ...
- What are you doing here, Dobby? -
- I wanted to meet once again Harry Potter - the elf squeaked happily. This time it was Harry to smile, but sadly. - You're dead, Dobby -
- I know, but this is dream, Harry Potter. I died. And 'there - Dobby said pointing at something nearby, near the roots of a tree - my grave. Harry Potter has dug for me, no magic -
- Yeah, I remember - said Harry. "Here lies Dobby, a free elf."
- Do not be sad, Harry Potter! Dobby is happy, Dobby is free and peaceful now.
- I'm glad, Dobby, really. But I wanted to save you. If you go back, I ...
- Come on, Harry Potter! That's fine. Harry Potter must not be sad for Dobby.
The elf smiled again, from my dear friend and a bit 'naive, smiled at Harry. Then without saying a word, snapped his fingers, as was his custom. A cloud of smoke engulfed the surrounding landscape while the thinned out, making slowly an infinite expanse of white.
The dream was over. Harry opened his eyes, put on his glasses, he realized he had tears from her face inumidido.

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Reading & Libraries

meeting room of Gryffindor. 9:00 pm


- Where have you been all afternoon? -
- I? Um. Be ', the library, of course. I started the task of Muggle Studies -
- But this review is to be delivered at the end of the semester, Hermione! -
- I know. But I have chosen the Muggle book to review, and since I had nothing to do ... -
- I understand. Already in mid-book. Anyway, I am past the library, and were not there. I find Harry, but there was not even him -
- Probably not you see me. I have always been there. Also, all afternoon, so far, I have not met anyone, I was reading ... I took notes ... I have stretched the draft memorandum to the review ... I signed the permission of the library to borrow the book, I ... -
- Hermione, I get it! Were you at the library, there is no need to list all the details of your "wonderful" afternoon spent in the company of ... -
- none, Ronald. I was always alone, I said -
- ... a Muggle book. But you, Hermione? You're weird. More than usual, mean. The readings Muggle you so upset? -
- Scolvolta? I'm not upset. I'm fine. I'm just a bit 'tired. I think I'll go to sleep. Yes, better sleep on it. Vado. Good night, Ron -

From hole to portray Harry enters

- Hello, Ron -
- Oh, Harry, hello. Where have you been? -
- I? I've been all afternoon in the library -



litanies: accadatuto you imagine what that afternoon in the library. What did Hermione, in addition to reading, what did Harry (who was not actually in the library), what has been lost Ron ...

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Question of the Dead Scar

Who knows how, feel free to dream. Do not have nightmares, or disembodied voices to fill the mind of cruel sentences. Owning an unconscious level that never lead to the light and dark presences old and sad memories.

thought of this, Harry, lying on the bed with his hand to his forehead. The burning sensation in the scar was passing, thanks to the cool wind blew from the open window. She felt exhausted, with no desire to move from that position. With anger, thinking about how to screen the presence of Voldemort from his mind, to avoid being his puppet. But there was really a way? Living with the hiss of a snake in the head I would not wish anyone ...

He read the letter from Sirius, who counseled patience and calm, not to feed the fears, because it was what Voldemort wanted. His godfather was away somewhere, with Buckbeak, Harry, but that letter brought back a few weeks, when Black was at his side, and watched all the Hogwarts castle in the moonlight, planning a life together. Already, the moon ... Had it not been for that night, maybe now would not be there, number 4 Privet Drive, with the aftermath of yet another nightmare to keep him awake. He decided to forget about it.

The hours passed, Harry was tired, wanted to sleep but could not fall asleep. He then left the bed and went the window. The night sky was calm and peaceful, and that was to calm a bit 'its concern. Despite everything he tried to relax and imagine Sirius fly to her window in the back of Buckbeak, and then set off together, leaving behind the old Chamber of Dudley and a lot of thoughts that would fill even the most capacious think tank, avoiding to make a question of scar.

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everything around Harry, had been reduced to ashes. The house, vegetable garden, tool shed Mr. Muggles Weasley, and the garden that once had disinfected the attack gnomes. Everything destroyed. Wisps of smoke continued to meander in the gray and suffocating, something was still burning under the rubble of the Tana. Attack of the Death Eaters was instantaneous and devastating. No one had had time to fight back. They had been found and exterminated all together. Harry could not believe that he was the sole survivor of the massacre. Still, watching what was left of one of his favorite retreat, did not cry of despair, what he expected. He could not believe what I had in front.

hours passed, and the dirty air of ash continued to swirl around Harry, spreading odors acres between remains of the fire. Slowly, he began to feel the sense of loss, to understand, and weep for his friends. Ron, Hermione , Ginny, the Weasley , Lupin, Mad-Eye ...
A small part of him wanted to continue to believe that the massacre was merely the result of one of the many nightmares, visions of those who for years had been forced to live and endure suffering. Visions, on the other hand, knew he had to continue to suffer. That this disaster was not the culmination of pain, which would have still continued to suffer. For how long?
more hours passed, night fell. The first members of the Ministry came materializing on the spot. There was also Hagrid, escaped death by sheer luck was not there at the time of the attack at the Burrow. The giant came Harry him, hug - the wet beard and sad eyes, in silence. But he could not hold back the sobs when the special team of the Ministry took out one by one the bodies from the rubble. Harry 's anger suddenly exploded. The screams in the chest dormant until then broke the heavy air. He fell to his knees on the ashes, beating his fists on the ground. She remembered that night when he became an orphan, the flashes of green light and the screams of his mother remembered Cedric of Sirius Of Dumbledore, of all the people that the war against the dark forces had stolen. She could not go on like this. He had lost everything.
The burden of responsibility now more than ever weighed on his shoulders. He had to defeat Voldemort , and at the same time satisfy their revenge, so as to give rest and peace to the fallen.
- Where you go, Harry ? -
- A Hogwarts . That 's where I'll find it. The castle is the only place he has left to conquer. Will be there. And I'll kill him. Yes, Hagrid , kill him. I promise.

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A Window to the Past

"What was my father?"
"He was ... a good man. A friend like few others. Loyal, sincere, unselfish. Maybe not everyone is lucky enough to meet a friend like your father in your life. You see, Harry, do not talk like that because there is no more. I'm not a hypocrite, Harry. Your father was a lively boy and here at Hogwarts has combined the fine ' Lupin smiled. "But your father was an exceptional person. And the problems, the trouble ... well, 'he always found a solution. "
After the chat with Professor Lupin, Harry returned to the lounge to wait for Ron and Hermione, out for the trip to Hogsmeade. The afternoon was not so bad, and stay with Professor Lupin was not very different from spending some 'time with a friend. The link between his father and Professor Lupin felt the skin, and those stories, those memories of one of the best friends of his father, he warmed the breast of emotions.
But the thought of a grim fate and hostile to the mind as the flickering flames of the fire just lit. The life, until then, had something that gave away more. He had lost all the family had no relatives, a house, no memory of anything or anyone. As if someone had on him with relentless ferocity of despair, to alleviate pain and atone for sins, to release tension.
He thought that, yes, maybe from that moment on, life would have reserved only good things, it would be a crescendo. In fact, he observed, for almost three years had a place much like a home and family, had friends, loves, small great satisfaction. It could only go from strength to strength. It would be so? After all these horrors, there was really only room for joy and happiness? No, not out there somewhere there was a dangerous ... criminal and Voldemort.
gaze lingered among the crackling fire. It seemed as if the reddish flames formed a human face watching him and smiled ...
"Hey, Harry, look here!"
"Hello, Harry."
Ron and Hermione had just arrived from trip to Hogsmeade.
"This bag is all for you, man. All stuff of choice taken by Zonko, store favorite jokes from Fred and George, and now from me! You see, "
The arrival of Ron and Hermione, full of enthusiasm for the walk through the streets of the village of Hogsmeade, made him forget Harry tangles of those thoughts. Ron told Zonko and Mielanda, a candy store in the world provided the most magical.
"And there's also a nice quiet place where you can sip Butterbeer and read a good book," said Hermione instead.
When it was time to go to bed, the three friends put out the fire. As they climbed the stone stairs directly to the dorms, the strands of darkness and smoke mingled with the moonlight beams projected from the windows, to dissolve.
Harry could not fall asleep right away. In bed, under the covers, peeking through the window of the room, looked back to the words of Lupin. Imagine shooting his father, while outside, the silhouettes of Dementors, emerging from time to time covering the moonlight like huge dark shadows over the world.

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Quotes - 1

"They are trying to discredit him," said Lupin. "Did not you read the Daily Prophet last week? It was ruled by magicians of the Ministry after he gave a speech to announce the return of Lord Voldemort. They demoted from the position of Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and are considering whether levargli also the Order of Merlin, First Class. "
"But Dumbledore says he does not care what they do until they remove the stickers from the Chocolate, "said Bill with a big smile.


from The Order of the Phoenix.

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The secret room of Sirius

Spring cleaning had awakened a desire to Harry. The home of Sirius continued to produce dirt, layers and layers of dust were added to them over each other, forming grayish patina on the walls and furnishings. Harry had recently moved to Grimmauld Place, and had never found time to turn in all rooms of the house to clean up. Also missing a few days for Easter. Harry had invited everyone to celebrate the anniversary just Grimmauld Place ... more reason to get clean.
Ron and Hermione joined him to help him early that morning in April.
- 'Day - Ron yawned into the house. - Sorry, Harry, not that I'm not going to help you, is that ... Hermione! I woke up before the rooster! -
At that moment came Hermione. - Ron! Do not stay hunchback and do not sleep standing up, for heaven's sake. Oh, hello Harry! Let's start right away? - From the closet in the basement
drove out brooms, rags and any kind of special solvent. Ron had not yet recovered, but began to work, however, to cleaning, though, given the condition of the house, could be considered as well as pest control operations. The only rooms were clean and tidy the kitchen and the bedroom on the first floor, the only parts of the house inhabited by Harry. Not that he was manic order as Hermione, but at least there was no reason not to grind with the rags and solvents magic.
Harry and Ron took care of the dining room, and Hermione on the upper floors.
- This house is a factory of dirt. I do not recall ever having seen clean - Ron complained, yawning once again, and Harry could not help but agree with his friend. Suddenly, the torpor of Ron was completely erased by the cry of Hermione - Come immediately, quick! -
Harry and Ron rushed up the stairs. - Where are you, Hermione? What happened?! -
- I'm here! -. The voice of girl came from the Sirius study. Ron rushed towards the door.
- Hermione, are you okay? -
- Of course I'm fine -
- So why the hell did you put a scream!? - Ron gasped, bent knees.
- Look - was the answer of Hermione. He pushed the wall opposite the desk and slid to the side, opening a passage ...
They found themselves in another room. He had the air of luxury to be home to a castle. There were tapestries and statues, strange mechanical objects and two walls crammed with books that immediately attracted the attention of Hermione.
- What is this place? Harry, do you know anything? -
- No, nothing. I have never entered into the study of Sirius - After
almost an hour of frantic inspection, also shot up by cat hair white. It seemed the undisputed master of that room, and seemed not so happy with the presence of boys. Hermione, however, managed to get it on your lap and cuddle a bit '.
- There must be another secret passage - said Harry, - if the cat is here, and we went to the wall just us ... -
- Probable - Hermione agreed.
But apart from the wall of the study found no other hidden passages.
- I wonder what was he doing with all this stuff Sirius - Ron said, looking at the faithful reproduction of a giant turtle.
- I think it's all stuff that belonged to his family, old stuff, handed down and preserved here - judge Harry.
- And why do not you have never spoken, I'm sorry? He has not even mentioned in the will -
- Be ', perhaps because it was so important, at least not for him - said Harry.
- Sirius left the house to Harry, and had certainly considered that sooner or later this room would have been detected - said Hermione, who continued to pet the cat.

After a couple of hours scesesero all three in the dining room to continue the cleaning. Ron took a decision to remove grease from windows, and Harry knew that Hermione's constant cuddling the cat would have irritated until the end of the day.

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The black dog training night

Harry took his broom swept under the axis of the mobile bed. It was two weeks to return to school, and had no intention of being found out of shape for the new season of Quidditch. Gryffindor there was no more to give the Cup to Slytherin, let alone him, we played as Seeker, the most important role of the team. He decided to train at night, so that darkness could hide it better.
That evening, the Dursleys were all out to dinner, and he, alone in the house, he could focus, undisturbed, on the lock of his room. He fumbled with a hairpin (an old trick he had learned from muggles Weasley twins) and quiet darkness crept up to the window in the kitchen (even the front door was locked). He forced the window and on ... tiempida night out in mid-August. Past
Wisteria Walk, with Nimbus on his shoulder, climbed the hill leading to the abandoned amusement park, of course desert. But before getting on their broomsticks Harry made sure that the place was really the first of prying eyes. A roar of the engine and lights up in the sky - maybe a plane or a helicopter - and then silence again. He put the Nimbus and broke away from the ground and remained low. A couple of laps on the surface of grass and climbed higher ... The flight emptied it of any concern, had always been that way since the first class flight, on the fields of Hogwarts. Not being able to train
to catch the snitch, he concentrated on speed and balance. He tried to reach high speeds and then suddenly turn, changing direction several times, quickly. After a few laps he noticed unusual vibrations in the neck, then went ashore and checked the tail of the Nimbus. Some twigs sprouted outside irregularly. Harry took away the older ones, while the other would set a time back home, using the excellent Kit Maintenance Tools for Broomsticks given him by Hermione.
Spend twenty-three was forced to return home to avoid having to argue with the Dursleys. Went down the hill, passed the home of Mrs. Figg, and once in the garden of number four, forced for the second time in the kitchen window. He ran the water in the sink, and cooled her face sweaty.
arrived in the room, and once closed the door, jumped on the bed, exhausted. He felt something curl up under the back. Rising with difficulty he found in his hands a letter. He opened it. The handwriting was twisted and almost imcomprensibile: "Herry, look what you've seen us on the broom in the air tonight. What's got into your head? Did I caught while flying over Surrey with my bike ... You have risked big boy ! Very big! Flying between the Muggle homes ... we do not do it! There are people who could see you! Do not do it anymore, Herry. Do not get into trouble, please. Hagrid. PS: With the broom are the best! "
Although he had his reasons, a sort of pecking Howler from Hagrid was not great, since he was one of those who, in the magical world, he always combined all the colors. Harry threw down a few lines in response to Hagrid, reassuring him that he'd never flown, but promised not to stand still at home, but to consider alternatives to training on night flights between the houses Muggles.

Baby Rosy Cheeks Fever

Stay away from the magical world that Harry was the thing he hated more than any other. More than Professor Snape and perhaps even Draco Malfoy. Too little of that pair letters from Ron and Hermione received five days before, re-read to learn them by heart. What was supposed to be his home was his prison instead. Fell downstairs only for meals was not in contact with his uncles and was better for everyone.
time, in the former bedroom of his cousin never spoke. Jobseekers study, counting the days that separated him from returning to school, and looking out the window. Anxiously await his owl, but what stuck to the windowsill, a few days ago, were the frequent visits of a very dark and shaggy-haired dog, who often wandered near the driveway of number four, Privet Drive. It happened that stopped just below the window Harry, as if waiting for something or someone. Certainly a hassle to Uncle Vernon. - I'll call the dog catcher! These stray must go! I do not want fleas in my garden! - Rant was that evening, returning from work, covering the voice of the ad in tivvù who read the news of an escape of a dangerous criminal ...
The dog returned about midnight. Harry had dozed off on the windowsill. There was not a cloud in the sky, and glided back to Hedwig was the only speck in the blue blanket dotted with stars. Harry perched on the arm, waking him. - Here, at last - Harry exclaimed. - No letter, eh? - Then said, disappointed. Hedwig's pecked the back of a friendly hand as if to cheer him up. Offering water to the owl and some hard biscuit, Harry noticed the dog. He was back there in the street to look at it, still. But after a little 'something startled him. He began to growl in the direction of the front door, while a trail of footsteps Uncle Vernon (in a hideous robe) was trying to chase the dog, waving his arms like a fool - Come, get out of here! Go! Go!
The dog disappeared, and Uncle Vernon (muttering and cursing) went into the house. The animal did not reappear in the driveway, but stood looking toward the window of Harry until dawn, hidden in a bush in front of the house. Two large and piercing yellow eyes ...

Skate Board Bi=uilder

Rock n 'Troll

A weekend away from school a little early for Easter holidays. It was a cloudy Sunday morning, with a few timid rays of sunshine that occasionally poked through the clouds fluffy. Not the best time for a walk at Diagon Alley, but Harry, Ron and Hermione did not want to miss a rare chance to visit various bazaars that have nothing to do with education costs.

They made a leap from Magic Town, a charming little museum of miniatures of the greatest architectural works of the magical world: they saw a small but Hogwarts detailed with a lot of Black Lake, and the white marble bank Gringotts and the most futuristic stadiums designed for Quidditch. Past by top quality accessories for the giant octopus fishing (Ron he understood something to fish for octopus, and pushed Harry and Hermione to have a look).

exhausted by the walk is granted a break from Bon Bon Bites , taking a nice hot steaming calzone each.

"I should make a jump from Magical Herbs and Fungi," said Hermione, getting up from the table. "Come on, come on, take your bags and go."

"Hermione, calm. We have no hurry. "

" Ron, I must remind you that your mother gave us an appointment at the Leaky Cauldron in just under an hour? "

On the road again headed for the markets herbalists. But it never arrived. A strange encounter as unexpected as the three boys did not let go of Fine Herbs & Magic Mushrooms.

"Harry! Is it you, "said one guy who crossed the street with a beautiful smile and an expression to cover. He wore trousers and leather jacket, similar to one component of the Weird Sisters, the famous rock band.

"Um, would you?" Asked Harry, as Ron and Hermione, I guess I just do not know what strange type.

"In fact," said the man dressed in leather clothing looking at her and never stopped smiling, "I have changed things! But surely remember your wonderful and incomparable teacher of Defense Against the Arts ... "

" Professor Lockhart!?

"Exactly, Mr. Weasley, his own self. The last time we saw each other was last year at St. Mungo's, right? Oh, yes, I remember ... "

'It cured? "Asked Hermione, surprised.

"Healed completely Miss Granger! And in great shape now. And in a completely different look. " Rise. A laugh from the cartoon. "After my ... um ... anyway, after my mishap at school I decided to make a change in my career," he explained. "You know, with some of my knowledge, and notwithstanding a lot from books and practical lessons, I managed to open a recording studio. Now I make music! "

Harry, Ron and Hermione were silent for a few seconds, noting once again, from head to foot, the former professor. Gilderoy Lockhart reminded of a whimsical, ready for anything to highlight his image, but almost did not believe what they had before.

"In less than a year I have produced two albums," said Lockhart, full of joy. Then he lowered his voice, as if to confess something exceptional. "And in a few months will produce a third, which will be the fifth in the discography of The Weird Sisters, no less!"

"Superb" said Ron dish. "Ruin them too, I suppose."

Lockhart laughed sardonically, but did not respond to provocation. He continued talking with the feature, explaining some of his ideas in the long term, with the intention of landing new talent in music, a project in the magical world had always struggled to take off.

"My dear boys, now I must go. In twenty minutes I had an appointment with the Rock n 'Magic Studio.

"We must go ourselves," said Hermione, disappointed with the time. The meeting with Lockhart forced her to give up buying from Herbs & Magic Mushrooms. 'It was a pleasure to see you, professor. We wish you success. "

" so successful!" Said Harry and Ron almost in chorus.

"Thanks, guys! Good luck to you! "

" Cracks ! "Said Harry and Ron, this time in perfect sync.

*

The sky became darker and threatening when they met with Mrs. Weasley and her husband waiting for entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

"Dad, you'll never believe who we met today," Ron muttered in disgust and disbelief.

Merrily, Mr. Weasley said, "Hmm, let's see, shooting a guess: Gilderoy Lockhart version of Rock n 'Troll?

How To Pokemon Roms In Cydia

Welcome to ...

And here I am in a different guise and in another place. It 'been so long since I thought and I worked to create this space, and finally, between compromise, html and photoshop work, landing on another platform, leaving behind the old style and Splinder. It will not be a blog like the previous one: I will not talk to me, do not write anything about me. I wanted to open a blog theme, especially for the fun and - I hope - entertain even those who want to read it ...
mainly write stories (or if you want to call them Fan Fiction) on the created world by JK Rowling, but not limited (on occasion I'm going to space not even tell potteriani) . But this space will focus on a universe that many know, only too well, in order to continue to fantasize about the events of the books and films. I know that there are piles of blogs and ideas like this, but the desire to write and invent my own stories, which are read, and who may be created by many hands through external collaborations, is strong.
The stories have no history: will take place before an incident rather than another, or will be entirely invented, with completely different situations from the books.
For now I have no story ready to post, but I will try to write something as soon as possible so as to begin to get serious!

The timing of the update does not promise anything to anyone (or myself). May happen to write and publish two stories in one day (difficult, but could happen), or none for a few weeks, but I will try to leave some traces, making use of quotations, sketches, images and anything else to avoid being too virtual abandonment of this window Hogwarts.

The graphics for now is a bit 'thin and arranged, but once you understand all the features of the new platform, I'll try to change and make it more welcoming my new creative angle.
How I chose this template because I vaguely recalled the home page of Jo Rowling. After trying to create one from me (unsuccessfully), I went looking for something ready-made. A simple template, which gave me the impression of actually read and write about something, and not just on a simple spreadsheet. I do not know, maybe one day I will change completely graphics, but for now I find I enjoy this almost perfect for what I thought.

Welcome, then, who knows me and who I know.
light a new light , hoping it's just .