Sir Snitchbottle (1) (German Edition)

We use cookies to enhance your experience on our website. This website uses cookies that provide targeted advertising and which track your use of this website. You can change your cookie settings at any time. Continue Find out more. Laurence's set dancers has another string to her bow! The front end of a ship. What is the origin of 'sleep tight'? The Awesome Again son Sir Winston forged to the lead in the final turn and held off a familiar foe Sir Winston struck the front in the final turn and held clear of the late-closing Inclusive for the 1: Global Access was within striking range throughout and came through inside of The Boss Factor down the stretch to snag third-place honors.

G1 8F, Dirt 1st Woodward S. G1 9F, Dirt 1st Vosburgh S. G2 7F, Dirt 1st Philip H. G1 , 9F, Dirt , etc. G1 8F, Dirt 1st Fantasy S. G2 9F, Dirt , etc. G1 7F, Dirt 1st Madison S. G2 8F, Dirt , etc. G2 8F, Dirt 1st Justakiss S. He'd forgotten how utterly exhausting they were, how needy, how completely unschooled. Forty-plus years out of the classroom had taught Albus it was foolish to walk back inside one. He slugged back his glass before realizing it was empty. He'd need another one before he could think about the drubbing he'd received at the ICW.

He'd been caught, actually caught , in four illegal actions. Worse yet, it hadn't been swept under the carpet. No, the Irish papers reported it. Albus was no longer a senior executive of the ICW. He'd only just survived a vote of no-confidence in the Wizengamot here in Britain. And the Board of Governors was grumbling. They'd scheduled six meetings during the next term, like they wanted to be around Hogwarts constantly to spy on Albus Dumbledore.

Why had Harry gone? It made all this so much harder. Albus had plans that required the boy. He needed to be back within Albus' firm guidance. How to do it? How to get around that blasted Scoil? Albus needed someone with legal standing…oh, no. Albus could only think of a single person. He took a look at the mostly empty bottle and knocked the rest back again.

Harry was eating dinner with a few of his friends when Mipsy brought Hedwig into the dining hall. Ordinarily owls were allowed only with the students' rooms. For Mipsy to do this meant the owl's message was very important. Harry removed the message from his owl and set to reading it. It seemed to be from someone called Sirius Black, a man who was claiming to be Harry's godfather.

He briefly explained his friendship with Harry's father and mother — and his years unlawfully imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit. He asked to meet with Harry.

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Orion Murphy-Black continued eating for a few moments before he dropped his fork. Innocent, denied a trial ten years earlier. This sounds like a bad Muggle book, the Count of Monte Cristo or something. Sirius was my distant relation, a seventh cousin twice removed or something like that. I met Lily Evans, your mother, through him. I knew he went to Azkaban and I could never quite believe he would do the things he was accused of doing…but sent to prison without a trial.

That's got to be one of the very worst things to have happen. At the very least, I will send him the names of a couple excellent law wizards. I'd recommend corresponding with them until then. It's possible he's been fed a lot of lies by the people who just released him. It does seem a touch convenient, the timing of all this. He sits in a cell for ten years before anyone realizes he'd never been tried; then they try him and discover he's actually innocent? This is more of Dumbledore's mess, but at least you can benefit from it.

The Sirius I knew was a very interesting person, brash, funny, intensely loyal, but a touch cruel. Perhaps the years have softened him a bit — or, unfortunately, perhaps they've hardened him. His writing you a letter is a good sign. I would write back, young Harry. Harry smiled, got up from the table, and ran out of the dining hall. He obviously wanted to start his letter right now. He'd never really met anyone who could tell him about his parents. Dumbledore and McGonagall probably could have, but never tried.

That first letter from Sirius spawned a near daily stream of correspondence between the pair. There was nothing important in the letters: Harry's report on his schooling and a few questions he wanted to ask; Sirius' stories about Harry's parents and some return questions. It was a nice spring day. It was even nicer that Sirius Black was a free man — and that his lawyers were shredding the British Ministry of Magic into ribbons. Sirius wanted them to pay as much as he could squeeze out of them…so that he could promptly and very publicly donate all of it to charity.

The Veteran Auror's Debilitation Fund. The Strife Relief Fund. Scoil ar Draiocht Glas, which was currently educating his godson. All of them had left Sirius to rot. All of them could go straight to Dis and beg for mercy. Sirius was a smart man. He read the winds when he released. He saw why Dumbledore had suddenly remembered about him.

He knew they wanted Harry the second Dumbledore ever so casually mentioned that Harry Potter had elected to attend school in Ireland. Then he got confirmation after confirmation in what had happened before and after his 'trial. Sirius wasn't having any more of Dumbledore's nonsense. He wanted to be with his godson, to help educate him, to protect him.

The way he should have done years ago. Sirius had been an Auror. There was no good reason for him to have handed his responsibility to that half-giant Hagrid. Had he been in his right mind — and thinking of the future and not the painful immediate past, not dwelling on revenge for James and Lily — Sirius would never have done it. Sirius would have taken Harry and left Peter the Rat to Ministry justice. These were the people who had placed Harry with those 'relatives' of his.

They were on Sirius Black's list. Sirius wondered what Harry was like now. Did he look like James had? Or more like Lily? Was he kind, funny — or had the Muggles ruined the Potter essence inside him? Sirius felt his stomach clench. From the letters Sirius had exchanged with his godson, he was sure that Harry was quite bright and enthusiastic. He was planning on attending his first Quidditch match in a few days, but reported he was pretty decent on a broom from the informal lessons he'd been taking.

Sirius was ripped from his thoughts when a mousy haired young man stepped in front of Sirius' table. Sirius clamped his mouth shut before he could shout out, "Harry Potter.

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You follow behind me in two minutes. We'll wind up at the park near the river. Sirius had to forcibly restrain himself from hugging his godson before the boy walked away. Because of the disguise, he looked nothing like James. But, he sounded like him. He had the same smile, even.

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Sirius got up, dropped a few bills on the table, and followed along behind. He purposely stopped at a few store windows to admire this or that trinket. But he never lost sight of his godson. It was fun, this little game they were playing. Sirius didn't think he had anyone tailing him in Ireland, but he wouldn't put it past Dumbledore. Well, it might be Moody, but not in a heavily Muggle area like this.

How many Muggles had peg legs, scarred faces, and magical whirling eyes? He saw Harry stop and sit down on a park bench. Sirius didn't waver in his concentration on arriving at that bench. A few minutes later, Sirius took a seat as well. I don't know what to say. I've thought about you probably every day since you were born and this is the first time we get to meet since you were a toddler, on a park bench in Dublin. I'm so happy to be free again…and that you agreed to write to me and then to meet with me…". Black, until I got your letter. A lot in my life hasn't been my choice.

A lot has been hidden from me. And you were just the kind of person I've always wanted to meet: I'm just a regular student here. I'm good at Charms and Defense. I'm becoming a pretty good flier. And I get to do all my old subjects from when I was younger plus learn magic. We learned about leprechauns and dragons this past term — I really liked the dragons. They had two Welsh Greens and a Hebridean Black. During the summer break, I plan to go to Romania with some other students to the dragon preserve. I really, really like dragons…".

My tutor tells me I'm very gifted. He's put me on an accelerated schedule. I learn two to four new charms a week — I have more homework for that class than any two others — but I really love it. The Dueling class is starting to get good finally — some spells we can use, simple ones like a Leg-Locker and a Tickler. But it could eventually be my overall favorite. I'm going to join the Dueling Club next year for sure.

I start Herbology next term. I'm pretty good with a garden, living with the Dursleys taught me that much and how to cook, too, so it should be fun. Sirius almost flinched when Harry brought up the Dursleys again. He could feel the pain conveyed in his words. He could almost taste the loathing, fear, and hatred his godson felt toward them. How had that happened — their cruelty — how had it happened under the noses of the neighbors, the schools, the police?

Did no one notice? Or did Vernon and Petunia spread some sort of lie to cover their abuse and neglect? Must be magical somehow…". Harry obviously wanted to say more, but found he couldn't. He closed his mouth and then reopened it. It's a secrecy ward of some sort. To know more, you'd need an invitation to visit, Sirius, I'm sorry. I do have such an invitation and I plan to meet with the Headmaster, a man I knew years ago, in a few days…". I was stupid when I went after the real traitor just after your parents died. I should have been worried about my godson, about you, Harry. As for staying at the school, I think I should have something to fill my days with, too.

I'm the last of my family left alive — an old, old, very wealthy family — and I'd like to do something to give it a better name. So I think I'll pursue a Mastery in Ancient Runes and Warding and take on a career, reconnect with people through a profession. It won't be that easy, after all those years in that hellhole, but I want to try…". Well, he finally remembered that I existed.

So he decided to use my status as your godfather to his advantage. He arranged a show trial for me — to get me out of prison not through facts, but through trickery. They were going to claim, correctly, that I'd never received a trial and, without revealing exactly what happened, push through a measure saying that I had to be released. The Wizengamot didn't buy it: Weren't they surprised when I told them the truth: One of them would have been to ensure that I sue for your return, Harry. Weren't those old idiots surprised when the truth came out?

Dumbledore lost his leadership role and even his seat on the Wizengamot. Fudge was tossed out a few days later in the public uproar. Fickle and oblivious they may be most of the time, no witch or wizard ever likes to think he or she could be illegally sent to someplace as horrible as Azkaban. In those events, they saw themselves in me; they saw the things that could happen to them as they had happened to me. They saw Dumbledore playing Merlin with a man's life, ordering me about like I was a puppy dog.

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We use harsh punishments in our world, Harry, and we demand even harsher punishments when we find our confidence abused…". He'd been a member of the British Wizarding World for less than three months. Let's start, though, at the beginning… I was a surly little sprog when I crawled on the Hogwarts Express…". What do you have planned for the break? I saw a couple games last break and now we'll see a lot more. And go flying together. And quietly visit Black Manor in London before Sirius sells it off. He likes the Black Estate in County Cork much better. Then I'm going with some friends from the Creatures Club to Romania.

On the way back, I'm stopping in Bulgaria to speak with a woman who I've been corresponding with. She has a niece who is a metamorphmagus. I thought it might be helpful to speak with her. Orion Murphy-Black just nodded. They were detailed, extraordinary plans he heard. Even on break, the young scholar continued to learn. Such a bright young man — what a brilliant future he held within his grasp. He wants to be prepared to help you. And wards can be some extremely lethal defenses…". I'm sure your godfather would coach you along if you wanted, too…".

It will also be time to select your sciences, maths, and other subjects. Oh, and your languages.

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Will you continue on with French and Latin? Or add some new ones? I'd like to be orally fluent in French and able to read better in Latin before I try anything else. I do have some information to impart, Mr. It seems there was an attempted theft at your old school. Your first Defence teacher perished a few days after you left school, and a new one began after the winter holidays.

He just attempted to steal a valuable artifact from Hogwarts. Apparently the school was being used as a high security vault. From what I've pieced together, there were deadly animals including a monstrous troll , deadly plants, poisons, charmed objects set to fly and impale trespassers, and some kind of animated chess board with an attitude. The teacher — who Dumbledore claimed was possessed by an evil spirit — was trapped in the final room of this security regime. And he starved to death over the course of five weeks.

People were out looking for him, but your former Headmaster never thought to check his little vault area. Dumbledore's been thrown out of Hogwarts for 'conduct unbefitting a Headmaster. And losing two teachers in a year because of the damned thing, it's unconscionable. Lockhart, his name was. Wrote a lot of trashy adventure stories.

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Died looking at his own reflection in a mirror, if the stories are true. Always struck me as quite a vain man. I think it best we teach you a few magical precautions — such as preventing owls from finding you when you're out of the school and obscuring your magical signature — and work with you to quickly train up your metamorphic talents. Now that he no longer has a job, I expect he may try to spend more time pulling you back to Britain…". They also discovered a number of Potter Family possessions among his affects at Hogwarts.

The Ministry of Magic will be sending a box along soon. I'm told there was an Invisibility Cloak and a Family Grimoire among the items, plus your mother and father's wands. I suspect he wanted to dole them out to you as rewards. Behave well for him and he'd hand you the cloak. Do his bidding and he'd give you your mother's old wand. It appeared that he had quite a few family possessions in his private rooms, for a large number of families with orphaned children.

A lot of old family spellbooks and Grimoires. It seemed he never willingly returned those. He hoarded that knowledge for himself. They're being repatriated as we speak. The Ministry also found a few letters addressed to you that they'll be sending along. Harry just felt numb. The old man had done horrible things to other children like Harry — and no one had noticed for years, for maybe decades. The British were imbeciles. Harry washed himself of them in that instant.

He decided to even have Sirius write Gringotts and have all of his vaults and everything moved to Ireland. Apparently the goblins had a form of magic that allowed the entire vault to be moved without even opening it. Harry and the Headmaster spent several more minutes discussing Harry's next term before Harry's curiosity got the better of him. I've read something about it somewhere. It's supposed to be a powerful bit of alchemy. It can grant one…". Well, that story is a lie. The Philosopher's Stone is, very simply, the single greatest prank played in the last six hundred years. And Nicholas Flamel has been dead for five hundred twenty-three years.

His children, grandchildren, and other descendents have kept the prank going. Nicholas left that as his dying wish — along with many, many years worth of the collected hairs off his head. They've been using Polyjuice all this time to make it seem like Nicholas was still alive. Every few years 'Nicholas' would start up a new written correspondence with someone in the wizarding world, then have a meeting every once in a while, just to prove he was still alive. I believe Dumbledore met with 'Flamel' four times over sixteen years and had a few dozen letters from him — and it features prominently on his Chocolate Frog card as a defining partnership in Dumbledore's career.

Now, that's a truly incredible prank, isn't it? I'm an honorary member of Clan Flamel because of it. Keep that to yourself, won't you, Harry? Albus Dumbledore was quite angry — and depressed. He'd gotten caught so many times this past year. No one had ever caught him out before. Now he was finished. He felt old — and useless — and weak. The unmerciful prigs at the ICW.

None of them played by Albus Dumbledore's rules. Albus no longer had political influence. He no longer had a school to run, children to mold. He was old and dead. His days of playing the greatest game in history were over. He sobbed for a second. Harry Potter had been back in the wizarding world for less than a year and everything Albus had spent decades preparing was destroyed. The boy hadn't lifted more than a finger — he'd just left Hogwarts — and then the rest of the world fell on Albus' shoulders and crushed him.

He grumbled and stewed for a long time, then he seemed to undergo an almost physical transformation. He let go of the pity and the sense of worthlessness. He didn't have political power, true, but Albus was a powerful wizard, not as all-mighty as his reputation suggested, but powerful still. He had work to do. He had the Shrieking Shack to clean, as he couldn't go too far away from his school. He had Harry Potter to find and abduct. Now, it was a different story, the boy wouldn't be returning to Hogwarts.

No, Albus would bind the boy to a ten-year Apprenticeship with him. That should do the trick. Harry needed to learn. He needed to be strong, but not too strong. Not happy, but not beaten bloody and abused into worthlessness — somewhere in the middle. But most of all he needed to be humble. Harry needed to willingly die for the light. The world was lost if Harry Potter didn't willingly surrender his life. And he wouldn't be willing if he kept on at that blasted Scoil. That had destroyed all of Dumbledore's plans.

Harry needed to be prepared. The Dursleys couldn't have been more perfect in their hatred of the boy. It had been exactly what was needed. Now, it was all in ruins. Dumbledore began to plot. He had Harry Potter to mold into a willing sacrifice. The cogs in his mind began to spin. Just In All Stories: Story Story Writer Forum Community. Harry Potter and the Irish Choice Summary: Let's start with the most recent, I guess. Harry pitched that letter aside The next was from Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, but Harry wasn't even able to finish its four pages of explanations.

This one was brief and to the point: Regards, Orion Murphy-Black Harry set the letter down. The one section that amused him the most read as follows: The magic you used in them somehow made me feel safe…" "That's as it should be, young Harry. I am the headmaster here, at least for a couple more years…" Harry stuck out his hand. You wrote a really good letter, sir. We can go over the formal introductions to the school, now that you've had a bit of a view of it, and then I can answer any questions you might have decided to ask…" Harry smiled.

Everything made sense so far. I take it you haven't eaten yet…" "That's correct, sir. Builds up stamina and energy levels, very helpful for young witches and wizards…" Harry just nodded. He remembered primary school and daily gymnasium. That really was a lot of classwork.

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They were part of my Hogwarts classes. You should be a natural in the Magical Languages course in a few years as you seem to be a Parselmouth, snake language, you know, and you've got a block on you to keep you from accessing your metamorphmagus abilities…" "Huh? I mean, the Headmaster there apparently stuck me with my relatives until it was time for me to come to his school…" "Well, during term, he won't be able to get in at all. Albus wanted to swear, but didn't. No other school would do as good a job…" No one believed his slip cover up, least of all Minerva.

What did you do with them? This room was a secret! It was being my duty to assist the young master. The almost Slytherin house elf already had plans in mind. But, why are you here? First stop, Prawley Day School.