To Cut Me 
Your Tongue Must Be Sharper Than the Thick Skin You Made

Words and Speech

I get undertones of sadness Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit, sed do eiusmod tempor incididunt ut labore et dolore magna aliqua.  Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipiscing. Ullamcorper malesuada proin libero nunc consequat interdum. Cursus turpis massa tincidunt dui ut. Enim ut tellus elementum sagittis vitae et leo. Est lorem ipsum dolor sit amet. Risus in hendrerit gravida rutrum quisque non. Ornare lectus sit amet est placerat in egestas erat imperdiet. Et magnis dis parturient montes nascetur ridiculus mus mauris vitae. Quis auctor elit sed vulputate mi sit. Ac orci phasellus egestas tellus rutrum tellus pellentesque eu. A scelerisque purus semper eget. Est lorem ipsum dolor sit amet consectetur adipiscing. Ultrices dui sapien eget mi proin. 

Facilisis volutpat est velit egestas dui id. when i think about the moments that I'll never get to spend with you.In iaculis nunc sed augue lacus viverra vitae. Mi proin sed libero enim sed faucibus turpis. Sem integer vitae justo eget. Volutpat est velit egestas dui id ornare arcu odio ut. Sociis natoque penatibus et magnis dis parturient montes. Arcu cursus euismod quis viverra nibh cras. Pharetra diam sit amet nisl suscipit adipiscing bibendum est ultricies. Quisque egestas diam in arcu. Sed blandit libero volutpat sed cras. Et tortor consequat id porta nibh venenatis. Ullamcorper sit amet risus nullam eget felis eget nunc lobortis. Et malesuada fames ac turpis egestas maecenas pharetra convallis. Sed vulputate mi sit amet mauris commodo quis imperdiet. Est ultricies integer quis auctor. Velit ut tortor pretium viverra. Sit amet risus nullam eget felis eget nunc lobortis mattis.

Urna neque viverra justo nec ultrices dui. Velit aliquet sagittis id consectetur purus ut faucibus. Massa sed elementum tempus egestas sed sed risus. Enim ut tellus elementum sagittis vitae. Elementum tempus egestas sed sed. Pulvinar etiam non quam lacus. Vitae justo eget magna fermentum iaculis eu. Bibendum enim facilisis gravida neque. Justo eget magna fermentum iaculis eu non diam phasellus. Iaculis eu non diam phasellus vestibulum lorem sed risus ultricies. Consequat mauris nunc congue nisi. Est lorem ipsum dolor sit. Aliquam purus sit amet luctus venenatis lectus magna fringilla. Mauris pharetra et ultrices neque ornare aenean. Vitae semper quis lectus nulla at volutpat. Purus semper eget duis at tellus at urna condimentum mattis. Nisl rhoncus mattis rhoncus urna neque viverra justo nec. Viverra adipiscing at in tellus integer feugiat scelerisque varius. I'll never know

Consectetur libero id faucibus nisl tincidunt eget. Mauris commodo quis imperdiet massa tincidunt. Elit sed vulputate mi sit amet. Faucibus nisl tincidunt eget nullam non nisi est. Vel facilisis volutpat est velit egestas dui id ornare. Facilisi cras fermentum odio eu. Nam at lectus urna duis convallis convallis tellus id. Vitae nunc sed velit dignissim sodales ut eu. Egestas sed sed risus pretium quam. Platea dictumst vestibulum rhoncus est pellentesque elit.

if there's danger in my confessionEget dolor morbi non arcu risus. Phasellus vestibulum lorem sed risus ultricies tristique nulla aliquet enim. Sed enim ut sem viverra aliquet eget sit. Sit amet aliquam id diam maecenas ultricies mi eget mauris. Nisi vitae suscipit tellus mauris. Turpis massa tincidunt dui ut ornare lectus. Arcu cursus vitae congue mauris rhoncus. Magna fermentum iaculis eu non diam. Velit aliquet sagittis id consectetur purus. Pretium aenean pharetra magna ac. or it's memory that presses like a blade against my throat.Eu volutpat odio facilisis mauris sit amet massa vitae. Pellentesque pulvinar pellentesque habitant morbi tristique senectus et netus et. Aenean sed adipiscing diam donec adipiscing tristique risus. Amet risus nullam eget felis. Morbi non arcu risus quis varius quam quisque. Ornare suspendisse sed nisi lacus sed viverra tellus. Augue ut lectus arcu bibendum at varius vel.
Another word and I could choke.

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

Her thoughts were elsewhere, anywhere but here in the abysmal chill that nipped at her even through the thick furs that cloaked her shoulders. Her mind had wandered back to the ship that bore her here from across the sea, to the comforting creak and groan of the futtock as the waves brushed against the hull. It had been calming, a blissful ride, a paradise compared to living on the sand bitten streets. The days had been hot, miserable. The nights were frigid, yet without the lack of powdered white that dappled these ones. She thought she had been found, that she was returning home. That her ordeals and tribulations would be over. She could still recall the immense confusion she had felt as her mother had held her face within her hands and spoke to her in a language she could only barely understand a scattered word of. How she had smiled as the word home kept creeping across her tongue. Home. A place she couldn't remember but knew she longed for terribly.

Home.

A bittersweet sentiment now. One that felt more like a prison. It made her actually miss those filthy roads she sat at the side of. In comparison to this gilded cage and all its restrictive chains, that place offered whispers of freedom. Where her will could be her own, from the way she dressed and behaved to who it was she would spend the remainder of her life with. None would care there. She may have been nothing there, a worthless vagabond doomed to starvation and withering, but she would have been without what her mother had called familial duty. Death may have come, but it wouldn't find her an old woman, gray, aged and going blind from staring out a window all day. Watching the people unbound, becoming jealous of them. Telling the hours of the days forever by their comings and goings while she was kept under lock and key like her home was some ivory tower.

Her heart began to skip - to race. What was keeping her here? She had already slipped the watch of Aethelos. A thing she assumed to be a brittle thread if only to keep the complacency of their father. Peace of mind he had said. What peace of mind to him would it be should she be murdered or not? Married or not? Present or not? It wouldn't be. The notion had her numbed fingers coiling into the dense fabric of the gown she'd donned, pulling her hooded shawl tighter. She would leave, a course of action she assumed she had taken before. There were no kidnappers, were there? No sickness. No, her body was far too healthy even after the weeks, perhaps even months of starvation she had faced in that coastal city to belong to some sickly frail wilting flower. She had run away. She had chosen to leave this life behind and be free. Something had happened though, something she could not recall. She would repeat it. She would vanish into the breaking day, but this time she would not be taken back into custody.

“Afraid the shops don’t tend to open until about mid-morning. Might be a bit before anyone comes to set up.” She nearly swallowed her tongue as she gasped audibly, followed by a slight cough at the influx of frigid air. She whirled, boots nearly tripping over one another before she caught herself. Her face flushed as she looked upon the face of the one who had addressed her. A slight smile crossed her lips as her cheeks further burned, pale eyes turning downward. "F-forgive me. I-I must look f-foolish." Was it lost she looked? Lost, confused? Neither a wholly wrong description. “Were you trying to find something?” She bit the inside of her cheek slightly, vision returning to his face as she searched his countenance for a brief moment. "N-no. Not part-ticularly." She would pause, her mouth opening before closing, debating her next words somewhat carefully before simply settling on. "I'm just l-leaving." The words were just above a whisper regardless.

!

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

Her thoughts were elsewhere, anywhere but here in the abysmal chill that nipped at her even through the thick furs that cloaked her shoulders. Her mind had wandered back to the ship that bore her here from across the sea, to the comforting creak and groan of the futtock as the waves brushed against the hull. It had been calming, a blissful ride, a paradise compared to living on the sand bitten streets. The days had been hot, miserable. The nights were frigid, yet without the lack of powdered white that dappled these ones. She thought she had been found, that she was returning home. That her ordeals and tribulations would be over. She could still recall the immense confusion she had felt as her mother had held her face within her hands and spoke to her in a language she could only barely understand a scattered word of. How she had smiled as the word home kept creeping across her tongue. Home. A place she couldn't remember but knew she longed for terribly.

Home.

A bittersweet sentiment now. One that felt more like a prison. It made her actually miss those filthy roads she sat at the side of. In comparison to this gilded cage and all its restrictive chains, that place offered whispers of freedom. Where her will could be her own, from the way she dressed and behaved to who it was she would spend the remainder of her life with. None would care there. She may have been nothing there, a worthless vagabond doomed to starvation and withering, but she would have been without what her mother had called familial duty. Death may have come, but it wouldn't find her an old woman, gray, aged and going blind from staring out a window all day. Watching the people unbound, becoming jealous of them. Telling the hours of the days forever by their comings and goings while she was kept under lock and key like her home was some ivory tower.

Her heart began to skip - to race. What was keeping her here? She had already slipped the watch of Aethelos. A thing she assumed to be a brittle thread if only to keep the complacency of their father. Peace of mind he had said. What peace of mind to him would it be should she be murdered or not? Married or not? Present or not? It wouldn't be. The notion had her numbed fingers coiling into the dense fabric of the gown she'd donned, pulling her hooded shawl tighter. She would leave, a course of action she assumed she had taken before. There were no kidnappers, were there? No sickness. No, her body was far too healthy even after the weeks, perhaps even months of starvation she had faced in that coastal city to belong to some sickly frail wilting flower. She had run away. She had chosen to leave this life behind and be free. Something had happened though, something she could not recall. She would repeat it. She would vanish into the breaking day, but this time she would not be taken back into custody.

“Afraid the shops don’t tend to open until about mid-morning. Might be a bit before anyone comes to set up.” She nearly swallowed her tongue as she gasped audibly, followed by a slight cough at the influx of frigid air. She whirled, boots nearly tripping over one another before she caught herself. Her face flushed as she looked upon the face of the one who had addressed her. A slight smile crossed her lips as her cheeks further burned, pale eyes turning downward. "F-forgive me. I-I must look f-foolish." Was it lost she looked? Lost, confused? Neither a wholly wrong description. “Were you trying to find something?” She bit the inside of her cheek slightly, vision returning to his face as she searched his countenance for a brief moment. "N-no. Not part-ticularly." She would pause, her mouth opening before closing, debating her next words somewhat carefully before simply settling on. "I'm just l-leaving." The words were just above a whisper regardless.

!

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE

TO CUT ME

Her thoughts were elsewhere, anywhere but here in the abysmal chill that nipped at her even through the thick furs that cloaked her shoulders. Her mind had wandered back to the ship that bore her here from across the sea, to the comforting creak and groan of the futtock as the waves brushed against the hull. It had been calming, a blissful ride, a paradise compared to living on the sand bitten streets. The days had been hot, miserable. The nights were frigid, yet without the lack of powdered white that dappled these ones. She thought she had been found, that she was returning home. That her ordeals and tribulations would be over. She could still recall the immense confusion she had felt as her mother had held her face within her hands and spoke to her in a language she could only barely understand a scattered word of. How she had smiled as the word home kept creeping across her tongue. Home. A place she couldn't remember but knew she longed for terribly.

Home.

A bittersweet sentiment now. One that felt more like a prison. It made her actually miss those filthy roads she sat at the side of. In comparison to this gilded cage and all its restrictive chains, that place offered whispers of freedom. Where her will could be her own, from the way she dressed and behaved to who it was she would spend the remainder of her life with. None would care there. She may have been nothing there, a worthless vagabond doomed to starvation and withering, but she would have been without what her mother had called familial duty. Death may have come, but it wouldn't find her an old woman, gray, aged and going blind from staring out a window all day. Watching the people unbound, becoming jealous of them. Telling the hours of the days forever by their comings and goings while she was kept under lock and key like her home was some ivory tower.

Her heart began to skip - to race. What was keeping her here? She had already slipped the watch of Aethelos. A thing she assumed to be a brittle thread if only to keep the complacency of their father. Peace of mind he had said. What peace of mind to him would it be should she be murdered or not? Married or not? Present or not? It wouldn't be. The notion had her numbed fingers coiling into the dense fabric of the gown she'd donned, pulling her hooded shawl tighter. She would leave, a course of action she assumed she had taken before. There were no kidnappers, were there? No sickness. No, her body was far too healthy even after the weeks, perhaps even months of starvation she had faced in that coastal city to belong to some sickly frail wilting flower. She had run away. She had chosen to leave this life behind and be free. Something had happened though, something she could not recall. She would repeat it. She would vanish into the breaking day, but this time she would not be taken back into custody.

“Afraid the shops don’t tend to open until about mid-morning. Might be a bit before anyone comes to set up.” She nearly swallowed her tongue as she gasped audibly, followed by a slight cough at the influx of frigid air. She whirled, boots nearly tripping over one another before she caught herself. Her face flushed as she looked upon the face of the one who had addressed her. A slight smile crossed her lips as her cheeks further burned, pale eyes turning downward. "F-forgive me. I-I must look f-foolish." Was it lost she looked? Lost, confused? Neither a wholly wrong description. “Were you trying to find something?” She bit the inside of her cheek slightly, vision returning to his face as she searched his countenance for a brief moment. "N-no. Not part-ticularly." She would pause, her mouth opening before closing, debating her next words somewhat carefully before simply settling on. "I'm just l-leaving." The words were just above a whisper regardless.

!

YOUR TONGUE MUST BE SHARPER THAN THE THICK SKIN YOU MADE

TO CUT ME

Her thoughts were elsewhere, anywhere but here in the abysmal chill that nipped at her even through the thick furs that cloaked her shoulders. Her mind had wandered back to the ship that bore her here from across the sea, to the comforting creak and groan of the futtock as the waves brushed against the hull. It had been calming, a blissful ride, a paradise compared to living on the sand bitten streets. The days had been hot, miserable. The nights were frigid, yet without the lack of powdered white that dappled these ones. She thought she had been found, that she was returning home. That her ordeals and tribulations would be over. She could still recall the immense confusion she had felt as her mother had held her face within her hands and spoke to her in a language she could only barely understand a scattered word of. How she had smiled as the word home kept creeping across her tongue. Home. A place she couldn't remember but knew she longed for terribly.

Home.

A bittersweet sentiment now. One that felt more like a prison. It made her actually miss those filthy roads she sat at the side of. In comparison to this gilded cage and all its restrictive chains, that place offered whispers of freedom. Where her will could be her own, from the way she dressed and behaved to who it was she would spend the remainder of her life with. None would care there. She may have been nothing there, a worthless vagabond doomed to starvation and withering, but she would have been without what her mother had called familial duty. Death may have come, but it wouldn't find her an old woman, gray, aged and going blind from staring out a window all day. Watching the people unbound, becoming jealous of them. Telling the hours of the days forever by their comings and goings while she was kept under lock and key like her home was some ivory tower.

Her heart began to skip - to race. What was keeping her here? She had already slipped the watch of Aethelos. A thing she assumed to be a brittle thread if only to keep the complacency of their father. Peace of mind he had said. What peace of mind to him would it be should she be murdered or not? Married or not? Present or not? It wouldn't be. The notion had her numbed fingers coiling into the dense fabric of the gown she'd donned, pulling her hooded shawl tighter. She would leave, a course of action she assumed she had taken before. There were no kidnappers, were there? No sickness. No, her body was far too healthy even after the weeks, perhaps even months of starvation she had faced in that coastal city to belong to some sickly frail wilting flower. She had run away. She had chosen to leave this life behind and be free. Something had happened though, something she could not recall. She would repeat it. She would vanish into the breaking day, but this time she would not be taken back into custody.

“Afraid the shops don’t tend to open until about mid-morning. Might be a bit before anyone comes to set up.” She nearly swallowed her tongue as she gasped audibly, followed by a slight cough at the influx of frigid air. She whirled, boots nearly tripping over one another before she caught herself. Her face flushed as she looked upon the face of the one who had addressed her. A slight smile crossed her lips as her cheeks further burned, pale eyes turning downward. "F-forgive me. I-I must look f-foolish." Was it lost she looked? Lost, confused? Neither a wholly wrong description. “Were you trying to find something?” She bit the inside of her cheek slightly, vision returning to his face as she searched his countenance for a brief moment. "N-no. Not part-ticularly." She would pause, her mouth opening before closing, debating her next words somewhat carefully before simply settling on. "I'm just l-leaving." The words were just above a whisper regardless.

!

YOUR TONGUE MUST BE SHARPER THAN THE THICK SKIN YOU MADE

heavy in your arms Her thoughts were elsewhere, anywhere but here in the abysmal chill that nipped at her even through the thick furs that cloaked her shoulders. Her mind had wandered back to the ship that bore her here from across the sea, to the comforting creak and groan of the futtock as the waves brushed against the hull. It had been calming, a blissful ride, a paradise compared to living on the sand bitten streets. The days had been hot, miserable. The nights were frigid, yet without the lack of powdered white that dappled these ones. She thought she had been found, that she was returning home. That her ordeals and tribulations would be over. She could still recall the immense confusion she had felt as her mother had held her face within her hands and spoke to her in a language she could only barely understand a scattered word of. How she had smiled as the word home kept creeping across her tongue. Home. A place she couldn't remember but knew she longed for terribly. Home. A bittersweet sentiment now. One that felt more like a prison. It made her actually miss those filthy roads she sat at the side of. In comparison to this gilded cage and all its restrictive chains, that place offered whispers of freedom. Where her will could be her own, from the way she dressed and behaved to who it was she would spend the remainder of her life with. None would care there. She may have been nothing there, a worthless vagabond doomed to starvation and withering, but she would have been without what her mother had called familial duty. Death may have come, but it wouldn't find her an old woman, gray, aged and going blind from staring out a window all day. Watching the people unbound, becoming jealous of them. Telling the hours of the days forever by their comings and goings while she was kept under lock and key like her home was some ivory tower. Her heart began to skip - to race. What was keeping her here? She had already slipped the watch of Aethelos. A thing she assumed to be a brittle thread if only to keep the complacency of their father. Peace of mind he had said. What peace of mind to him would it be should she be murdered or not? Married or not? Present or not? It wouldn't be. The notion had her numbed fingers coiling into the dense fabric of the gown she'd donned, pulling her hooded shawl tighter. She would leave, a course of action she assumed she had taken before. There were no kidnappers, were there? No sickness. No, her body was far too healthy even after the weeks, perhaps even months of starvation she had faced in that coastal city to belong to some sickly frail wilting flower. She had run away. She had chosen to leave this life behind and be free. Something had happened though, something she could not recall. She would repeat it. She would vanish into the breaking day, but this time she would not be taken back into custody. “Afraid the shops don’t tend to open until about mid-morning. Might be a bit before anyone comes to set up.” She nearly swallowed her tongue as she gasped audibly, followed by a slight cough at the influx of frigid air. She whirled, boots nearly tripping over one another before she caught herself. Her face flushed as she looked upon the face of the one who had addressed her. A slight smile crossed her lips as her cheeks further burned, pale eyes turning downward. "F-forgive me. I-I must look f-foolish." Was it lost she looked? Lost, confused? Neither a wholly wrong description. “Were you trying to find something?” She bit the inside of her cheek slightly, vision returning to his face as she searched his countenance for a brief moment. "N-no. Not part-ticularly." She would pause, her mouth opening before closing, debating her next words somewhat carefully before simply settling on. "I'm just l-leaving." The words were just above a whisper regardless. !

i was a heavy heart to carry
my beloved was weighed down

THE DREADED MAN DOG!!!!!!There was an emptiness to the air in Odersten of late. The streets were far more barren of faces, but many more paths wound through his door and crossed paths with his shelves. Draughts to help stave off the effects of magic. Vervain by the bunches, tonics to mute aches and other tinctures to help assuage the assault of pain. The city hummed with a palpable tension announced with the birth of the monarch's new heirs and the declaration that those involved in the draft were required to answer the call once more. He'd watched them file by with a certain kind of sickness curling like a balling fist within the pit of his belly. Some faces were better known than others, masks that he may never behold again and even those that did would be naught but ghosts haunting the familiarity of the skin the haunt of misery and tragedy deigned to sheathe itself within.

Sometimes, women and children accompanied them. The younglings would skip, oblivious with the wool of vibrant youth to shield their eyes to the ways their mothers' arms crawled like a desperate vine about the man's elbow as if that alone would be enough to leash him to their family. If only it were so simply to become an anchor, dredging the bottom of the depths to stymie the tides of war. If only the tidal surges would be enough to not leave them snapped and lost where the sun no longer touched them in the long moonless night afterward. So it was that another tear stained face departed the counter with her bundles of luck and hopeful aid for the love she may never lay eyes on again hale, let alone whole. An extremely sad affair.

"Gods, I need a drink." The rugged mumble would be given life under his breath as he turned his attention to face the chime of the entrance bell once again. However, this time, no preemptively grieving widow-to-be was cloying with desperation clinging to her skirt tails. No, rather, there was a part of him that almost wished it was.

Though Huian was more than a welcome sight, his presence during business hours rarely boded well for him. He could only hope that this time would be a different tune.

Or he would really need that drink.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure today, Bossman?"

There was an emptiness to the air in Odersten of late. The streets were far more barren of faces, but many more paths wound through his door and crossed paths with his shelves. Draughts to help stave off the effects of magic. Vervain by the bunches, tonics to mute aches and other tinctures to help assuage the assault of pain. The city hummed with a palpable tension announced with the birth of the monarch's new heirs and the declaration that those involved in the draft were required to answer the call once more. He'd watched them file by with a certain kind of sickness curling like a balling fist within the pit of his belly. Some faces were better known than others, masks that he may never behold again and even those that did would be naught but ghosts haunting the familiarity of the skin the haunt of misery and tragedy deigned to sheathe itself within.

Sometimes, women and children accompanied them. The younglings would skip, oblivious with the wool of vibrant youth to shield their eyes to the ways their mothers' arms crawled like a desperate vine about the man's elbow as if that alone would be enough to leash him to their family. If only it were so simply to become an anchor, dredging the bottom of the depths to stymie the tides of war. If only the tidal surges would be enough to not leave them snapped and lost where the sun no longer touched them in the long moonless night afterward. So it was that another tear stained face departed the counter with her bundles of luck and hopeful aid for the love she may never lay eyes on again hale, let alone whole. An extremely sad affair.

"Gods, I need a drink." The rugged mumble would be given life under his breath as he turned his attention to face the chime of the entrance bell once again. However, this time, no preemptively grieving widow-to-be was cloying with desperation clinging to her skirt tails. No, rather, there was a part of him that almost wished it was.

Though Huian was more than a welcome sight, his presence during business hours rarely boded well for him. He could only hope that this time would be a different tune.

Or he would really need that drink.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure today, Bossman?"

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it.. . it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?"  said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with. . . one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably.  "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

"What rules?"  said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave, won't you?  Won't you, Fred?  And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!"  Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them.  "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved.  Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment.  The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them.  Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry.  "At the World Cup, remember?  But my own mother won't say.  Wonder what --"

"Shh!"  Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs.  Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know.  He knows the headmaster, you see.  Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff.  But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away.  Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts.  Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . ."

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?"  she said angrily.  "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it.. . it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?"  said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with. . . one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably.  "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

"What rules?"  said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave, won't you?  Won't you, Fred?  And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!"  Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them.  "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved.  Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment.  The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them.  Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry.  "At the World Cup, remember?  But my own mother won't say.  Wonder what --"

"Shh!"  Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs.  Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know.  He knows the headmaster, you see.  Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff.  But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away.  Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts.  Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . ."

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?"  she said angrily.  "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it.. . it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?"  said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with. . . one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably.  "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

"What rules?"  said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave, won't you?  Won't you, Fred?  And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!"  Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them.  "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved.  Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment.  The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them.  Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry.  "At the World Cup, remember?  But my own mother won't say.  Wonder what --"

"Shh!"  Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs.  Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know.  He knows the headmaster, you see.  Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff.  But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away.  Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts.  Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . ."

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?"  she said angrily.  "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it.. . it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?"  said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with. . . one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably.  "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

"What rules?"  said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave, won't you?  Won't you, Fred?  And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!"  Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them.  "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved.  Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment.  The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them.  Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry.  "At the World Cup, remember?  But my own mother won't say.  Wonder what --"

"Shh!"  Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs.  Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know.  He knows the headmaster, you see.  Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff.  But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away.  Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts.  Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . ."

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?"  she said angrily.  "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

A WREATH OF THORNS ADORNS THE DOOR

"I might be seeing you all sooner than you think," said Charlie, grinning, as he hugged Ginny good-bye.

"Why?" said Fred keenly.

"You'll see," said Charlie. "Just don't tell Percy I mentioned it.. . it's 'classified information, until such time as the Ministry sees fit to release it,' after all."

"Yeah, I sort of wish I were back at Hogwarts this year," said Bill, hands in his pockets, looking almost wistfully at the train.

"Why?"  said George impatiently.

"You're going to have an interesting year," said Bill, his eyes twinkling. "I might even get time off to come and watch a bit of it."

"A bit of what?" said Ron.

But at that moment, the whistle blew, and Mrs. Weasley chivvied them toward the train doors.

"Thanks for having us to stay, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione as they climbed on board, closed the door, and leaned out of the window to talk to her.

"Yeah, thanks for everything, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry.

"Oh it was my pleasure, dears," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'd invite you for Christmas, but...well, I expect you're all going to want to stay at Hogwarts, what with. . . one thing and another."

"Mum!" said Ron irritably.  "What d'you three know that we don't?"

"You'll find out this evening, I expect," said Mrs. Weasley, smiling. "It's going to be very exciting - mind you, I'm very glad they've changed the rules -"

"What rules?"  said Harry, Ron, Fred, and George together.

"I'm sure Professor Dumbledore will tell you. . . . Now, behave, won't you?  Won't you, Fred?  And you, George?"

The pistons hissed loudly and the train began to move.

"Tell us what's happening at Hogwarts!"  Fred bellowed out of the window as Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie sped away from them.  "What rules are they changing?"
But Mrs. Weasley only smiled and waved.  Before the train had rounded the corner, she, Bill, and Charlie had Disapparated.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione went back to their compartment.  The thick rain splattering the windows made it very difficult to see out of them.  Ron undid his trunk, pulled out his maroon dress robes, and flung them over Pigwidgeon's cage to muffle his hooting.

"Bagman wanted to tell us what's happening at Hogwarts," he said grumpily, sitting down next to Harry.  "At the World Cup, remember?  But my own mother won't say.  Wonder what --"

"Shh!"  Hermione whispered suddenly, pressing her finger to her lips and pointing toward the compartment next to theirs.  Harry and Ron listened, and heard a familiar drawling voice drifting in through the open door.

". . . Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know.  He knows the headmaster, you see.  Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore - the man's such a Mudblood-lover - and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff.  But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away.  Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts.  Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do. . . ."

Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Malfoy's voice.

"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?"  she said angrily.  "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him."

NO ONE COMES HOME ANYMORE