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He set off in pursuit. Snow crunched beneath his feet, but the doe made no noise as she passed through the trees, for she was nothing but light. Deeper and deeper into the forest she led him, and Harry walked quickly, sure that when she stopped, she would allow him to approach her properly. And then she would speak and the voice would tell him what he needed to know. At last, she came to a halt. She turned her beautiful head toward him once more, and Baldurs gate system requirements reviews broke into a run, a question burning in him, but as he opened his lips to ask it, she vanished. Though the darkness had swallowed her whole, her burnished image was still imprinted on his retinas; it obscured his vision, brightening when he lowered his eyelids, disorienting him. Now fear came: Her presence had meant safety. Lumos. he whispered, and the wand-tip ignited. The imprint of the doe faded away with every blink of his eyes as he stood there, listening to the sounds of the forest, to distant crackles of twigs, soft swishes of snow. Was he about to be attacked. Had she enticed him into an ambush. Was he imagining that somebody stood beyond the reach of the wandlight, watching him. He held the wand higher. Nobody ran out at him, no flash of green light burst from behind a tree. Why, then, had she led him to this spot. Something gleamed in the light of the wand, and Harry spun about, but all that was there was a Baldurs gate system requirements reviews, frozen pool, its cracked black surface glittering as he raised the wand higher to examine it. He moved forward rather cautiously and looked down. The ice reflected his distorted shadow and the beam of wandlight, but deep below the thick, misty gray carapace, something else glinted. A great silver cross. His heart skipped into his mouth: He dropped to his knees at the pools edge and angled the wand so as to flood the bottom of the 4 aluminum code add fallout with as much light as possible. A glint of deep red. It was a sword with glittering rubies in its hilt. The sword of Gryffindor was lying at the bottom of the forest pool. Barely breathing, he stared down at it. How was this possible. How could it have come to be lying in a forest pool, this close to the place where they were camping. Had some unknown magic drawn Hermione to this spot, or was the doe, which he had taken to be a Patronus, some kind of guardian of the pool. Or had the sword been put into the pool after they had arrived, precisely because they were here. In which case, where was the person who had wanted to pass it to Harry. Again he directed the wand at the surrounding trees and bushes, searching for a human outline, for the glint of an eye, but he could not see anyone there. All the same, a little more fear leavened his exhilaration as he returned his attention to the sword reposing upon the bottom of the frozen https://freestrategygames.cloud/steam-deck/steam-deck-oled-uk-pay-monthly.php. He pointed the wand at the silvery shape and murmured, Accio Sword. It did not stir. He had not Baldurs gate system requirements reviews it to. If it had been that easy, the sword would have lain on the ground for him to pick up, not in the depths of a frozen pool. He set off around the circle of ice, thinking hard about the last time the sword had delivered itself to him. He had been in terrible danger then, and had asked for help. Help, he murmured, but the sword remained upon the pool bottom, indifferent, motionless. What was it, Harry asked himself (walking again), that Dumbledore had told him the last time he had retrieved the sword. Only a true Gryffindor could have pulled that out of the hat. And what were the qualities that defined a Gryffindor. A small voice inside Harrys head answered him: Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart. Harry stopped walking and let out a long sigh, his smoky breath dispersing rapidly upon the frozen air. He knew what he had to do. If he was honest with himself, he had thought it might come to this from the moment he had spotted the sword through the ice. He glanced around at the surrounding trees again, but was convinced now that nobody was going to attack him. They had had their chance as he walked alone through the forest, had had plenty of opportunity as he examined the pool. The only reason to delay at this point was because the immediate prospect was so deeply uninviting. With fumbling fingers Harry started to remove his many layers of clothing. Where chivalry entered into this, he thought ruefully, he was not entirely sure, unless it counted as chivalrous that he was not calling for Hermione to do it in his stead. An owl hooted somewhere as he stripped off, and he thought with a pang of Hedwig. He was shivering now, his teeth chattering horribly, and yet he continued to strip off until at last he stood there in his underwear, barefooted in the snow. He placed the pouch containing his wand, his mothers letter, the shard of Siriuss mirror, and the old Snitch on top of his clothes, then he pointed Hermiones wand at the ice. Diffindo. It cracked with a sound like a bullet in the silence: The surface of the pool broke and chunks of dark ice rocked on the ruffled water. As far as Harry could judge, it was not deep, but to retrieve the sword he would have to submerge himself completely. Contemplating the task ahead would not make it easier or the water warmer. He stepped to the pools edge and placed Hermiones wand on the ground, still lit. Then, trying not to imagine how much colder he was about to become or how violently he would soon be shivering, he jumped. Every pore of his body screamed in protest: The very air in his lungs seemed to freeze solid as he was submerged to his shoulders in the frozen water. He could hardly breathe; trembling so violently the water lapped over the edges of the pool, he felt for the blade with his numb feet. He only wanted to dive once. Harry put off the moment of total submersion from second to second, gasping and shaking, until he told himself that it must be done, gathered all his courage, and dived. The cold was agony: It attacked him like fire. His brain itself seemed to have frozen as he pushed through the dark water to the bottom and reached out, groping for the sword. His fingers closed around the hilt; he pulled it upward. Then something closed tight around his neck. He thought of water weeds, though nothing had brushed him as he dived, and raised his empty hand to free himself. It was not weed: The chain of the Horcrux had tightened and was slowly constricting his windpipe. Harry kicked out wildly, trying to push himself back to the surface, but merely propelled himself into the rocky side of the pool. Thrashing, suffocating, he scrabbled at the strangling chain, his frozen fingers unable to loosen it, and now little lights were popping inside his head, and he was going to drown, there was nothing left, nothing he could do, and the arms that closed around his chest were surely Deaths. Choking and retching, soaking and colder than he had ever been in his life, he came to facedown in the snow. Somewhere close by, another person was panting and coughing and staggering around. Hermione had come again, as she had come when the snake attacked. Yet it did not sound like her, not with those deep coughs, not judging by the weight of the footsteps. Harry had no strength to lift his head and see his saviors identity. All he could do was raise a shaking hand to his throat and feel the place where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone: Someone had cut him free. Then a panting voice spoke from over his head. Are - you - mental. Nothing but the shock of hearing that voice could have given Harry the strength to get up. Shivering violently, he staggered to his feet. There before him stood Ron, fully dressed but drenched to the skin, his hair https://freestrategygames.cloud/pubg-gameloop/pubg-gameloop-xbox-360-key.php to his face, the sword of Gryffindor in one hand and the Horcrux dangling from its broken chain in the other. Why the hell, panted Ron, holding up the Horcrux, which swung backward and forward on its shortened chain in some parody of hypnosis, didnt you take this thing off before you dived. Harry could not answer. The silver doe was nothing, nothing compared with Rons reappearance; he could not believe it. Shuddering with cold, he caught up the pile of clothes still lying at the waters edge and began to pull them on. As he dragged sweater after sweater over his head, Harry stared at Ron, half expecting him to have disappeared every time he lost sight of him, and yet he had to be real: He had just dived into the pool, he had saved Harrys life. It was y-you. Harry said at last, his teeth chattering, his voice weaker than usual due to his near-strangulation. Well, yeah, said Ron, looking slightly confused. Y-you cast that doe. What. No, of course not. I thought it was you doing it. My Patronus is a stag. Oh yeah. I thought it looked different. No antlers. Harry put Hagrids pouch back around his neck, pulled on a final sweater, stooped to pick up Hermiones wand, and faced Ron again. How come youre here. Apparently Ron had hoped that this point would come up later, if at all. Well, Ive - you know - Ive come back. If - He cleared his throat. You know. You still want me. There was a pause, in which the subject of Rons departure seemed to rise like a wall between them. Yet he was here. He had returned. He had just saved Harrys life. Ron looked down at his hands. He seemed momentarily surprised to see the things he was holding. Oh yeah, I got it out, he said, rather unnecessarily, holding up the sword for Harrys inspection. Thats why you jumped in, right. Yeah, said Harry. But I dont understand. How did you get here. How did you find us. Long story, said Ron. Ive been looking for you for hours, its a big forest, isnt it. And I was just thinking Id have to kip under a tree and wait for morning when I saw that deer coming and you following. You didnt see anyone else. No, said Ron. I - But he hesitated, glancing at two trees growing close together some yards away. I did think I saw something move over there, but I was running to the pool at the time, because youd gone in and you hadnt come up, so I wasnt going to make a detour to - hey. Harry was already hurrying to the place Ron had indicated. The two oaks grew close together; there was a gap of only a few inches between the trunks at eye level, an ideal place to see but not be seen. The ground around the roots, however, was free of snow, and Harry could see no sign of footprints. He walked back to where Ron stood waiting, still holding the sword and the Horcrux. Anything there. Ron asked. No, said Harry. So how did the sword get in that pool. Whoever cast the Patronus must have put it there. They both looked at the ornate silver sword, its rubied hilt glinting a little in the light from Hermiones wand. You reckon this is the real one. asked Ron. One way to find out, isnt there. said Harry. The Horcrux was still swinging from Rons hand. The locket was twitching slightly. Harry knew that the thing inside it was agitated again. It had sensed the presence of the sword and had tried to kill Harry rather than let him possess it. Now was not the time for long discussions; now was the moment to destroy the locket once and for all. Harry looked around, holding Hermiones wand high, and saw the place: a flattish rock lying in the shadow of a sycamore tree. Come here, he said, and he led the way, brushed snow from the rocks surface, and held out his hand for the Horcrux. When Ron offered the sword, however, Harry shook his head. No, you should do it. said Ron, looking shocked. Why. Because you got the sword out of the pool. I think its supposed to be you. He was not being kind or generous. As certainly as he had known that the doe was benign, he knew that Ron had to be the one to wield the sword. Dumbledore had at least taught Harry something about certain kinds of magic, of the incalculable power of certain acts. Im going to open it, said Harry, and you stab it. Straightaway, okay. Because whatevers in there will put up a fight. The bit of Riddle in the diary tried to kill me. How are you going to open it. asked Ron. He looked terrified. Im going to ask it to open, using Parseltongue, said Harry. The answer came so readily to his lips that he thought that he had always known it deep down: Perhaps it had taken his recent encounter with Nagini to make him realize it. He looked at the serpentine S, inlaid with glittering green stones: It was easy to visualize it as a minuscule snake, curled upon the cold rock. said Ron. No, dont open it. Im serious. Why not. asked Harry. Lets get rid of the damn thing, its been months - I cant, Harry, Im serious - you do it - But why. Because that things bad for me. said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. I cant handle it. Im not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff - stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse, I cant explain it, and then Id take it off and Id get my head on straight again, and then Id have to put the effing thing back on - I cant do it, Harry. He had backed away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head. You can do it, said Harry, you can. Youve just got the sword, I know its supposed to be you who uses it. Please, just get rid of it, Ron. The sound of his name seemed to act like a stimulant. Ron swallowed, then, still breathing hard through his long nose, moved back toward the rock. Tell me when, he croaked. On three, said Harry, looking back down at the locket and narrowing his eyes, concentrating on the letter S, imagining a serpent, while the contents of the locket rattled like a trapped cockroach. It would have been easy to pity it, except that the cut around Harrys neck still burned. One. two. three. open. The last word came as a hiss and a snarl and the golden doors of the locket swung wide with a little click. Behind both of the glass windows within blinked a living eye, dark and handsome as Tom Riddles eyes had been before he turned them scarlet and slit-pupiled. Stab, said Harry, holding the locket steady on the rock. Ron raised the sword in his shaking hands: The point dangled over the frantically swiveling eyes, and Harry gripped the locket tightly, bracing himself, already imagining blood pouring from the empty windows. Then a voice hissed from out of the Horcrux. I have seen your heart, and it is mine. Dont listen to it. Harry said harshly. Stab it. I have seen your dreams, Ronald Weasley, and I have seen your fears. All you desire is possible, but all that you dread is also possible. Stab. shouted Harry; his voice echoed off the surrounding trees, the sword point trembled, and Ron gazed down into Riddles eyes. Least loved, always, by the mother who craved a daughter. Least loved, now, by the girl who prefers your friend. Second best, always, eternally overshadowed. Ron, stab it now. Harry bellowed: He could feel the locket quivering in his grip and was scared of what was coming. Ron raised the sword still higher, and as he did so, Riddles eyes gleamed scarlet. Out of the lockets two windows, out of the eyes, there bloomed, like two grotesque bubbles, the heads of Harry and Hermione, weirdly distorted. Ron yelled in shock and backed away as the figures blossomed out of the locket, first chests, then waists, then legs, until they stood in the locket, side by side like trees with a common root, swaying over Ron and the real Harry, who had snatched his fingers away from the locket as it burned, suddenly, white-hot. Ron. he shouted, but the Riddle-Harry was now speaking with Voldemorts voice and Ron was gazing, mesmerized, into its face. Why return. We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence. We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption - Presumption. echoed the Riddle-Hermione, who was more beautiful and yet more terrible than the real Hermione: She swayed, cackling, before Ron, who looked horrified yet transfixed, the sword hanging pointlessly at his side. Who could look at you, who would ever look at you, beside Harry Potter. What have you ever done, compared with the Chosen One. What are you, compared with the Boy Who Lived. Ron, stab it, STAB IT. Harry yelled, but Ron did not move: His eyes were wide, and the Riddle-Harry and the Riddle-Hermione were reflected in them, their hair swirling like flames, their eyes shining red, their voices lifted in an evil duet. Your mother confessed, sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange. Who wouldnt prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him, crooned Riddle-Hermione, and she stretched like a snake baldurs gate abdirak il entwined herself around Riddle-Harry, wrapping him in a close embrace: Their lips met. On the ground in front of them, Rons face filled with anguish. He raised the sword high, his arms shaking. Do it, Ron. Harry yelled. Ron looked toward him, and Harry thought he saw a trace of scarlet in his eyes. Ron -. The sword flashed, plunged: Harry threw himself out of the way, there was a clang of metal and a long, drawn-out scream. Harry whirled around, slipping in the snow, wand held ready to defend himself: but there was nothing to fight. The monstrous versions of himself and Hermione were gone: There was only Ron, standing there with the sword held slackly in his hand, looking down at the shattered remains of the locket on the flat rock. Slowly, Harry walked back to him, hardly knowing what to say or do. Ron was breathing heavily: His eyes were no longer red at all, but their normal blue; they were also wet. Harry stooped, pretending he had not seen, and picked up the broken Horcrux. Ron had pierced the glass in both windows: Riddles eyes were gone, and the stained silk lining of the locket was smoking slightly. The thing that had lived in the Horcrux had vanished; torturing Ron had been its final act. The sword clanged as Ron dropped it. He had sunk to his knees, his head in his arms. He was shaking, but not, Harry realized, from cold. Harry crammed the broken locket into his pocket, knelt down beside Ron, and placed a hand cautiously on his shoulder. He took it as a good sign that Ron did not throw it off. After you left, he said in a low voice, grateful for the fact that Rons face was hidden, she cried for a week. Probably longer, only she didnt want me to see. There were loads of nights when we never even spoke to each other. With you gone. He could not finish; it was only now that Ron was here again that Harry fully realized how much his absence had cost them. Shes like my sister, he went on. I love her like a sister and I reckon she feels the same way about me. Its always been like that. I thought you knew. Ron did not respond, but turned his face away from Harry and wiped his nose noisily on his sleeve. Harry got to his feet again and walked to where Rons enormous rucksack lay yards away, discarded as Ron had run toward the pool to save Harry from drowning. He hoisted it onto his own back and walked back to Ron, who clambered to his feet as Harry approached, eyes bloodshot but otherwise composed. Im sorry, he said in a thick voice. Im sorry I left. I know I was a - a - He looked around at the darkness, as if hoping a bad enough word would swoop down upon him and claim him. Youve sort of made up for it tonight, said Harry. Getting the sword. Finishing off the Horcrux. Saving my life. That makes me sound a lot cooler than I was, Ron mumbled. Stuff like that apex one office sounds cooler than it really was, said Harry. Ive been trying to tell you that for years. Simultaneously they walked forward and hugged, Harry gripping the stillsopping back of Rons jacket. And now, said Harry as they broke apart, all weve got to do is find the tent again. But it was not difficult. Though the walk through the dark forest with the doe had seemed lengthy, with Ron by his side the journey back seemed to take a surprisingly short time. Harry could not wait to wake Hermione, and it was with quickening excitement that he entered the tent, Ron lagging a little behind him. It was gloriously warm after the pool and the forest, the only illumination the bluebell flames still shimmering in a bowl on the floor. Hermione was fast asleep, curled up under her blankets, and did not move until Harry had said her name several times. Hermione. She stirred, then sat up quickly, pushing her hair out of her face. Whats wrong. Harry. Are you all right. Its okay, everythings fine. More than fine. Im great. Theres someone here. What do you mean. Who -. She saw Ron, who click to see more there holding the sword and dripping onto the threadbare carpet. Please click for source backed into a shadowy corner, slipped off Rons rucksack, and attempted to blend in with the canvas. Hermione slid out of her bunk and moved like a sleepwalker toward Ron, her eyes upon his pale face. She stopped right in front of him, her lips slightly parted, her eyes wide. Ron gave a weak, hopeful smile and half raised his arms. Hermione launched herself forward and started punching every inch of him that she could reach. Ouch - ow - gerroff.

And before we knew where we were they were planted here and there all over the Shire, and were felling trees and digging and building themselves sheds and houses just as they liked. At first goods and damage was paid for Apex patch notes horizon Pimple; but soon they began lording it around and taking what they wanted. Then there was a bit of trouble, but not enough. Old Will the Mayor set off for Bag End to protest, but he never got there. Ruffians laid hands on him and took and locked him up in a hole in Michel Delving, and there he is now. And after that, it would be soon after New Year, there wasnt no more Mayor, and Pimple called himself Chief Shirriff, or just Chief, and did as he liked; and if anyone got uppish as they called it, they followed Will. So things went from bad to worse. There wasnt no smoke left, save for the Men; and the Chief didnt hold with beer, save for his Men, and closed all the see more and everything except Rules got shorter and shorter, unless one could hide a bit of ones own when the ruffians went round gathering stuff T HE SC O URIN G O F TH E SH IRE 1013 up for fair distribution: which meant they got it and we didnt, except for the leavings which you could have at the Shirriff-houses, if you could stomach them. All very bad. But since Sharkey came its been plain ruination. Who is this Sharkey. said Merry. I https://freestrategygames.cloud/game/steam-overlay-not-working-in-game-reddit.php one of the ruffians speak of him. The biggest ruffian o the lot, seemingly, Apex patch notes horizon Cotton. It was about last harvest, end o September maybe, that we first Apex patch notes horizon of him. Weve never seen him, but hes up at Bag End; and hes the real Chief now, I guess. All the ruffians do what he says; and what he says is mostly: hack, burn, and ruin; and now its come to killing. Theres no longer even any bad sense in it. They cut down trees and let em lie, they burn houses and build no more. Take Sandymans mill now. Pimple knocked it down almost as soon as he came to Bag End. Then he brought in a lot o dirty-looking Men to build a bigger one and fill it full o wheels and outlandish contraptions. Only that fool Ted was pleased by that, and he works there cleaning wheels for the Men, where his dad was the Miller and his Apex patch notes horizon master. Pimples idea was to grind more and faster, or so he said. Hes got other mills like it. But youve got to have grist before you can grind; and there was no more for the new mill to do than for the old. But since Sharkey came they dont grind no more corn at all. Theyre always a-hammering and a-letting out a smoke and a stench, and there isnt no peace even at night in Hobbiton. And they pour out filth a purpose; theyve fouled all the lower Water, and its getting down into Brandywine. If they want to make the Shire into a desert, theyre going the right way about it. I dont believe that fool of a Pimples behind all this. Its Sharkey, I say. Thats right. put in Young Tom. Why, they even took Pimples old ma, that Lobelia, and he was fond of her, if no one else was. Some of the Hobbiton folk, they saw it. She comes down the lane with her old umberella. Some of the ruffians were going up with a big cart. Where be you a-going. says she. To Bag End, says they. What for. says she. To put up some sheds for Sharkey, says they. Who said you could. says she. Sharkey, says they. So get out o the road, old hagling. Ill give you Sharkey, you dirty thieving ruffians. says she, and ups Apex patch notes horizon her umberella and goes for the leader, near twice her size. So they took her. Dragged her off to the Lockholes, at her age too. Theyve took others we miss more, but theres no denying she showed more spirit than most. 1014 T HE L ORD O F THE R INGS Into the middle of this talk came Sam, bursting in with his gaffer. Old Gamgee did not look much older, but he was a little deafer. Good evening, Mr.