Volegov The Sweetest Moment

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After the feast (more or less) came the Speech. Most of the company were, however, now in a tolerant mood, at that delightful stage which they called ‘filling up the corners’. They were sipping their favourite drinks, and nibbling at their favourite dainties, and their fears were forgotten. They were prepared to listen to Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots. ‘ProudFEET!’ shouted an elderly hobbit from the back of the pavilion. His name, of course, was Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table.anything, and to cheer at every full stop.My dear People, began Bilbo, rising in his place. ‘Hear! Hear! Hear!’ they shouted, and kept on repeating it in chorus, seeming reluctant to follow their own advice. Bilbo left his place and went and stood on a chair under the illuminated tree. The light of the lanterns fell on his beaming face; the golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could all see him standing, waving one hand in the air, the other was in his trouser-pocket.My dear Bagginses and Boffins, he began again; and my dear Tooks and Brandybucks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers,

Gauguin The Seed of Areoi

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infinitesimal amount. Someone had broken free of the crowd and charged at Voldemort: Harry saw the figure hit the ground. Disarmed, Voldemort throwing the challenger's wand aside and laughing.
　　　"Ah, yes, I remember," said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unproctected, standing in the no-man's-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. "But you are a pureblood, aren't you, my brave boy? Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled in fists. "So what if I am?" said Neville loudly. 　　　"You show spirit and bravery, and you come 　　　"And who is this?" he said in his soft snake's hiss. "Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?"

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.

　　　"It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?"

Pino Summer Retreat 2002

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Does it make a difference, being Muggle-born?"

　　　Snape hesitated. His black eyes, eager in the greenish gloom, moved over the pale face, the dark red hair.

"No," he said. "It doesn't make any difference."

"Good," said Lily, relaxing. It was clear that she had been worrying.
"Fine," he said. "They're not arguing anymore?" 　　　"Oh yes, they're arguing," said Snape. He picked up a fistful of leaves and began tearing them apart, apparently unaware of what he was doing. "But it won't be that long and I'll be gone."
　　　"You've got loads of magic," said Snape. "I saw that. All the time I was watching you…"

　　　His voice trailed away; she was not listening, but had stretched out on the leafy ground and was looking up at the canopy of leaves overhead. He watched her as greedily as he had watched her in the playground.

"How are things at your house?" Lily asked.

A little crease appeared between his eyes.

Cole Sunny Morning on the Hudson River

Cole Sunny Morning on the Hudson RiverCole Summer TwilightCole Study for Dream of ArcadiaCole Sketch for Dream of Arcadia
There was a smattering of applause.

"If you are of age, you may stay." said Professor McGonagall.

　　　"What about our things?" called a girl at the Ravenclaw table. "Our trunks, our owls?"
　　　Harry moved up the Hall alongside the Gryffindor table, still looking for Ron and Hermione. As he passed, faces turned in his direction, and a great deal of whispering broke out in his wake. 　　　"We have already placed protection around the castle," Professor
　　　"We have no time to collect possessions." said Professor McGonagall. "The important thing is to get you out of here safely."

"Where's Professor Snape?" shouted a girl from the Slytherin table.

　　　"He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk." replied Professor McGonagall and a great cheer erupted from the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws.

Chase After the Rain

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It's been …. Well, it's not really like Hogwarts anymore," said Neville, the smile fading from his face as he spoke. "Do you know about the Carrows?"

"Those two Death Eaters who teach here?"

　　　"They do more than teach," said Neville. "They're in charge of all discipline. They like punishment, the Carrows."
　　　"Amycus, the bloke, he teaches what used to be Defense Against the Dark Arts, except now it's just the Dark Arts. We're supposed to practice the Cruciatus Curse on people who've earned detentions – "
"Like Umbridge?"

　　　"Nah, they make her look tame. The other teachers are all supposed to refer us to the Carrows if we do anything wrong. They don't, though, if they can avoid it. You can tell they all hate them as much as we do."

Kinkade Afternoon Light Dogwood

Kinkade Afternoon Light DogwoodKinkade A Winter's CottageKinkade A Perfect Yellow RosePeeters Warwick Springs
Harry, could this be -- ? Aargh!"

　　　Hermione screamed in pain, and Harry turned his wand on her in time to see a jeweled goblet tumbling from her grip. But as it fell, it split, became a shower of goblets, so that a second later, with a great clatter, the floor was covered in identical cups rolling in every direction, the original impossible to discern amongst them.
　　　"Everything you touch will burn and multiply, but the copies are worthless – and if you continue to handle the treasure, you will eventually be crushed to death by the weight of expanding gold!" 　　　"Okay, don't touch anything!" said Harry desperately
"It burned me!" moaned Hermione, sucking her blistered fingers.

"They have added Germino and Flagrante Curses!" said Griphook.

, but even as he said it, Ron accidentally nudged one of the fallen goblets with his

Monet In The Rowing Boat

Monet In The Rowing BoatGuercino Susanna and the EldersMonet The Seine At Port-VillezGuercino A Donor Presented to the Virgin
Harry –" said Hermione, but she was cut off by Griphook.

　　　"Break into a Gringotts vault?" repeated the goblin, wincing a little as he shifted his position upon the bed. "It is impossible."

"No, it isn't," Ron contradicted him. "It's been done."
said Harry. "It belongs to the Lestranges." 　　　He saw Hermione and Ron look at each other, astonished, but there would be time enough to explain after Griphook had given his answer
　　　"Yeah," said Harry. "The same day I first met you, Griphook. My birthday, seven years ago."

　　　"The vault in question was empty at the time," snapped the goblin, and Harry understood that even though Griphook had let Gringotts, he was offended at the idea of its defenses being breached. "Its protection was minimal."

　　　"Well, the vault we need to get into isn't empty, and I'm guessing its protection will be pretty powerful,"

Dawson Rolling Seas - Eastern Monarch

Dawson Rolling Seas - Eastern MonarchDawson Sun-Flecked Foam--The Barnabas Webb of ThomastonMonsted By The River, BrondbyvesterDawson Swinging Along
Who are the Peverells?" asked Ron.

　　　"That was the name on the grave with the mark on it, in Godric's Hollow," said Hermione, still watching Xenophilius. "Ignotus Peverell."

　　　"Exactly!" said Xenophilius, his forefinger raised pedantically. "The sign of the Death Hallows on Ignotus's grave is conclusive proof!"

"Of what?" asked Ron.

　　　"Why, that the three brothers in the story were actually the three Peverell brothers, Antioch, Cadmus and Ignotus! That they were the original owners of the Hallows!"

　　　With another glance at the window he got to his feet, picked up the tray, and headed for the spiral staircase.

　　　"You will stay for dinner?" he called, as he vanished downstairs again. "Everybody always requests our

Li-Leger Leaf Lines III

Li-Leger Leaf Lines IIILi-Leger Leaf Lines IILi-Leger Leaf Lines ILi-Leger Joie de Vie (Joy of Life)
they were at least protected from the wind. They spent most of the day inside the tent, huddled for warmth around the useful bright blue flames that Hermione was adept at producing, and which could be scooped up and carried in a jar. Harry felt as though he was recuperating from some brief but severe, an impression reinforced by Hermione's solicitousness. That afternoon fresh flakes drifted down upon them, so that even their sheltered clearing had a fresh dusting of powdery snow.
darkness drove in again Harry refused Hermione's offer to keep watch and told her to go to bed. 　　　Harry moved an old cushion into the tent mouth and sat down, wearing all the sweaters he owned but even so, still shivery. The darkness
　　　After two nights of little sleep, Harry's senses seemed more alert than usual. Their escape from Godric's Hollow had been so narrow that Voldemort seemed somehow closer than before, more threatening. As

Rothko Orange Brown

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time he reached a away as they made their way back into the square. Somebody inside the church had just turned off the lights.

　　　Then Hermione's voice came out of the blackness for the third time, sharp and clear from a few yards away.

"Harry, they're here . . . right here."
new headstone he felt a little lurch of apprehension and anticipation. 　　　The darkness and the silence seemed to become, all of a sudden, much deeper. Harry looked around, worried, thinking of dementors, then realized that the carols had finished, that the chatter and flurry of churchgoers were fading
　　　And he knew by her tone that it was his mother and father this time: He moved toward her, feeling as if something heavy were pressing on his chest, the same sensation he had had right after Dumbledore had died

Eric Wallis Girls at the Beach painting

Eric Wallis Girls at the Beach paintingVincent van Gogh Starry Night over the Rhone paintingGustav Klimt The Bride painting
her. She leaned forward over the barrier, the better to observe her victim, and something gold swung forward too, and dangled over the void: the locket.

　　　Hermione had seen it; she let out a little squeak, but Umbridge and Yaxley, still intent upon their prey, were deaf to everything else.
　　　Umbridge held out a small hand: She looked so toadlike at that moment that Harry was quite surprised not to see webs between the stubby fingers. Hermione's hands were shaking with shock. She fumbled in a pile of documents balanced on the chair beside her, finally withdrawing a sheaf of parchment with Mrs. Cattermole's name on it.
　　　"No," said Umbridge, "no, I don't think so, Mrs. Cattermole. Wands only choose witches or wizards. You are not a witch. I have your responses to the questionnaire that was sent to you here – Mafalda, pass them to me."

Vincent van Gogh Almond Branches in Bloom painting

Vincent van Gogh Almond Branches in Bloom paintingUnknown Artist Ford Smith Just Between Us paintingUnknown Artist Apple Tree with Red Fruit painting
Ron glanced at Hermione, then said, "What if purebloods and halfbloods swear a Muggle-born's part of their family? I'll tell everyone Hermione's my cousin –"

Hermione covered Ron's hand with hers and squeezed it.

"Thank you, Ron, but I couldn't let you –"

　　　"You won't have a choice," said Ron fiercely, gripping her hand back. "I'll teach you my family tree so you can answer questions on it."

Hermione gave a shaky laugh.

　　　"Ron, as we're on the run with Harry Potter, the most wanted person in the country, I don't think it matters. If I was going back to school it would be different. What's Voldemort planning for Hogwarts?" she asked Lupin.

　　　"Attendance is now compulsory for every young witch and

John William Godward The Old Old Story painting

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Xenophilius Lovegood," he said, extending a hand to Harry, "my daughter and I live just over the hill, so kind of the good Weasleys to invite us. But I think you know my Luna?" he added to Ron.

"Yes," said Ron. "Isn't she with you?"

　　　"She lingered in that charming littlesay hello to the gnomes, such a glorious infestation! How

　　　"Ours do know a lot of excellent swear words," said Ron, "but I think Fred and George taught them those."

He led a party of warlocks into the marquee as Luna rushed up.

"Hello, Harry!" she said.

"Er – my name's Barry," said Harry, flummoxed.

Francois Boucher The Toilet of Venus painting

Francois Boucher The Toilet of Venus paintingFrancois Boucher The Interrupted Sleep paintingFrancois Boucher Leda and the Swan painting
We can't hide my whole family, it'll look too fishy and they can't all leave their jobs," said Ron. "So we're going to put out the story that I'm seriously ill with spattergroit, which is why I can't go back to school. If anyone comes calling to investigate, Mum or Dad can show them the ghoul in my bed, covered in pustules. Spattergroit's really contagious, so they're not going to want to go near him. It won't matter that he can't say anything, either, because apparently you can't once the fungus has spread to your uvula."

"And your mum and dad are in on this plan?" asked Harry.
　　　"Dad is. He helped Fred and George transform the ghoul. Mum . . . well, you've seen what she's like. She won't accept we're going till we're gone."

　　　There was silence in the room, broken only by gentle thuds as Hermione continued to throw books onto one pile or the other. Ron

Frida Kahlo paintings

Frida Kahlo paintings
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I am a chocolate lover and I keep turning to it for comfort. I try to convince myself that chocolate is a new “super-food” because I keep hearing that it's good for the heart. Can this be true? If so, how much and which chocolate is best?
As you will know, chocolate is made from cocoa beans, which naturally contain good amounts of the in your favourite bar of chocolate, and the second how much you need to eat to get any potential benefits.
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antioxidant super-nutrients known as flavonoids. Recent research carried out on flavonoid-rich chocolate and cocoa revealed them to have anti-clotting and anti-inflammatory effects, which in theory could help to lower the risk of heart disease.Flavonoids also seem to stimulate our bodies to make more nitric oxide, which helps to widen and relax blood vessels, and in turn may help to lower blood pressure. Not only this, but it is possible that flavonoids also help to stop bad cholesterol from oxidising, which in practice could make it less likely for arteries to fur up.In theory, then, eating flavonoid-rich chocolate could be good for you, although there are quite a few “buts”, the first of which involves how many flavonoids you actually get

Alphonse Maria Mucha The Judgement of Paris painting

Alphonse Maria Mucha The Judgement of Paris paintingPierre Auguste Renoir Two Sisters (On the Terrace) paintingPierre Auguste Renoir The Umbrellas painting
upon it in gold.
The ambulance, with the bier resting in it, awaiting the widows' permission to depart.
The last farewells of women.
The graveyard. Male mourners rushing to lift the bier on their shoulders trample Salahuddin's foot, ripping off a segment of the nail on his big toe.
Among the mourners, an estranged old friend of Changez's, here in spite of double pneumonia; -- and another old gentleman, weeping copiously, who will die himself the very next day; -- and all sorts, the walking records of a dead
The grave. Salahuddin climbs down into it, stands at the head end, the gravedigger at the foot. Changez Chamchawala is lowered down. _The weight of my father's head, lying in my hand. I laid it down; to rest_.
The world, somebody wrote, is the place we prove real by dying in it.

John William Waterhouse The Lady of Shalott painting

John William Waterhouse The Lady of Shalott paintingLeonardo da Vinci The Last Supper paintingLeonardo da Vinci Mona Lisa Smile painting
minds before anything crazy happens." The SHO, all straps, moustachioes and self-importance, shook his head. "But, see here, sir, how can I permit so many individuals to congregate on the street? Tempers can be inflamed; incident is possible." Just then the crowd of pilgrims parted and Srinivas saw for the first time the fantastic figure of the girl dressed entirely in butterflies, with snowy hair flowing down as far as her ankles. "Arré deo," he shouted, "Ayesha, is it you?" And added, foolishly: "Then where are my Family Planning dolls?"
His outburst was ignored; everybody was watching Ayesha as she approached the puff-chested SHO. She said nothing, but smiled and nodded, and the fellow seemed to grow twenty years younger, until in the manner of a boy of ten or eleven he said, "Okay okay, mausi. Sorry, ma. No offence. I beg your pardon, please." That was the end of the police trouble. Later that day, in the afternoon heat, a group of town youths known to have RSS and Vishwa Hindu Parishad connections began throwing stones from nearby rooftops

Edward Hopper Rocks and Sea painting

Edward Hopper Rocks and Sea paintingEdward Hopper Railroad Crossing paintingEdward Hopper Portrait of Orleans painting
imperfections in the canopy of leaves. In this sylvan secrecy, Saladin saw himself, accompanied by a small boy of about five, whom he was teaching to ride a bicycle. The boy, wobbling alarmingly at first, made heroic efforts to gain and maintain his balance, with the ferocity of one who wishes his father to be proud of him. The dream-Chamcha ran along behind his imagined son, holding the bike upright government had introduced admission charges at museums, and groups of angry art-lovers picketed the temples of culture. When he saw this, Chamcha had wanted to get up a placard of his own and stage a one-man counter-protest. Didn't these people know what the stuff inside was _worth?_ There they were, cheerfully the hot certainties of that transatlantic New Rome with its Nazified architectural gigantism, which employed the oppressions of size to make its human occupants feel like worms . . . London, in spite of an increase in excrescences such as the NatWest Tower -- a corporate logo extruded into the third dimension

Thomas Kinkade bloomsbury cafe painting

Thomas Kinkade bloomsbury cafe paintingEdward Hopper Rocks and Sea paintingEdward Hopper Railroad Crossing painting
how their confidence has been built on clouds, on the passion of Hind's proclamations and on very little else. They abandon her, and with her, hope. Plunging into despair, thetheir doors.
She screams at them, pleads, loosens her hair. "Come to the House of the Black Stone! Come and make sacrifice to Lat!" But they have gone. And Hind and the Grandee are alone on their balcony, while throughout Jahilia a great silence falls, a great stillness begins, and Hind leans against the wall of her palace and closes her eyes.
It is the end. The Grandee murmurs softly: "Not many of us have as much reason to be scared of Mahound as you. If you eat a man's favourite uncle's innards, raw, without so much as salt or garlic, don't be surprised if he treats you, in turn, like meat." Then he leaves her, and goes down into the streets from which even the dogs have vanished, to unlock the city gates.
Gibreel dreamed a temple:
By the open gates of Jahilia stood the temple of Uzza. And

John William Waterhouse The Lady Clare painting

John William Waterhouse The Lady Clare paintingJohn William Waterhouse The Awakening of Adonis paintingJohn William Waterhouse Mariana in the South painting
sleep was tormented: he thrashed about the bed, and words occasionally escaped his lips: _Jahilia, Al-Lat, Hind_. In his waking moments he appeared to wish to resist sleep, but it claimed him, waves of it rolling over him and drowning him while he, almost piteously, waved a feeble arm. She was unable to guess what traumatic events might have given rise to such behaviour, and, feeling a little alarmed, telephoned her mother. Alicja arrived to inspect the sleeping Gibreel, pursed her lips, and pronounced: "He's a man possessed." She had receded more and more into a kind of Singer Brothers dybbukery, and her mysticism never failed to exasperate her pragmatic, mountain-- climbing daughter. "Use maybe a suction pump on his ear," Alicja recommended. "That's the exit these creatures prefer." Allie shepherded her mother out of the door. "Thanks a lot," she said. "I'll let you know."
On the seventh day he came wide awake, eyes popping open like a doll's, and instantly reached for her. The crudity of the approach made her laugh almost

Andrew Atroshenko Before the Dance painting

Andrew Atroshenko Before the Dance paintingEdward Hopper Second Story Sunlight paintingEdward Hopper Route 6 Eastham painting
had never done back ; why, when power had been removed from his hands and delivered into hers, did she act -- as her husband put it -- the "sad sack", the "glum chum" and the "moochy pooch"? Simple: not in spite of, but on account of. Everything she valued had been upset by the change; had in this process of translation, been lost.
Her language: obliged, now, to emit these alien sounds that made her tongue feel tired, was she not entitled to moan? Her familiar place: what matter that they had lived, in Dhaka, in a teacher's humble flat, and now, owing to entrepreneurial good sense, savings and skill with spices, occupied this four--storey terraced house? Where now was the city she knew? Where the village of her youth and the green waterways of ? The customs around which she had built her life were lost, too, or at least were hard to find. Nobody in this Vilayet had time for the slow courtesies of back home, or for the many observances of faith. Furthermore: was she not forced to put up with

Henri Rousseau Exotic Landscape 1908 painting

Henri Rousseau Exotic Landscape 1908 paintingHenri Rousseau Eve paintingHenri Rousseau Carnival Evening painting
times, to the very top. The voice is rich and authoritative, a voice in the habit of being listened to; well--nourished, highly trained, the voice of American confidence, a weapon of the West turned against its makers, whose might upholds the Empress and her tyranny. In the early days Bilal X protested at such a description of his voice. He, too, belonged to an oppressed people, he insisted, so that it was unjust to equate him with the Yankee imperialists. The Imam answered, not without gentleness: Bilal, your suffering is ours as well. But to be raised in the house of power is to learn its ways, to soak them up, through that very skin that is the cause of your oppression. The habit of power, its timbre, its posture, its way of being with others. It is a disease, Bilal, infecting all who come too near it. If the powerful trample over you, you are infected by the soles of their feet.
Bilal continues to address the darkness. "Death to the tyranny of the Empress Ayesha, of calendars, of America, of time! We seek the eternity, the timelessness, of God. His still waters, not her flowing wines." Burn the books