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"Hmpf," he said, looking away quickly as though frightened of hurting his eyes. "Here —" He gave a drink to Dumbledore, who had sat down without invitation, thrust the tray at Harry, and then sank into the cushions of the repaired sofa and a disgruntled silence. His legs were so short they did not touch the floor.
It looked as though Uncle Vernon was bursting with any number of unpleasant retorts, but he merely shrank back into the cushions with Aunt Petunia and Dudley and said nothing, keeping his small piggy eyes on Dumbledore's wand.
"And all these people know where to find you, to send you stuff?" asked Harry, who could not help wondering why the Death Eaters had not yet tracked down Slughorn if hampers of sweets, Quidditch tickets, and visitors craving his advice and opinions could find him.
It took him a little over ten minutes to track down everything he needed; at last he had managed to extract his Invisibility Cloak from under the bed, screwed the top back on his jar of color-change ink, and forced the lid of his trunk shut on his cauldron. Then, heaving his trunk in one hand and holding Hedwig's cage in the other, he made his way back downstairs,
"Narcissa, that's enough. Drink this. Listen to me."
"The Unbreakable Vow?"
"Good," said Dumbledore. "Just one last thing, then." And he turned to speak to the Dursleys once more.
"A grim mood has gripped the country," the opponent had concluded, barely concealing his own broad grin.
Rumors continue to fly about the mysterious recent disturbance at the Ministry of Magic, during which He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was sighted once more.
Dumbledore turned to see Slughorn standing breathless in the doorway to the sitting room.
"So, what can I do for you?" Snape asked, settling himself in the armchair opposite the two sisters.
"I don't mean to be rude —" he began, in a tone that threatened rudeness in every syllable.
"Really? I was under the impression that the Dark Lord placed you here to assist me."
"I only meant. . . that nobody has yet succeeded. . . . Severus . . . please . . . You are, you have always been, Draco's favorite teacher. . . . You are Lucius's old friend. ... I beg you. .. . You are the Dark Lord's favorite, his most trusted advisor. . . . Will you speak to him, persuade him — ?",
Harry felt Dumbledore’s arm twist away from him and redoubled his grip; the next thing he knew, everything went black; he was being pressed very hard from all directions; he could not breathe, there were iron bands tightening around his chest; his eyeballs were being forced back into his head; his eardrums were being pushed deeper into his skull and then —-？
"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."。