book 6 - harry potter and the half-blood prince

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harry potter and the half-blood prince by j.k. rowling chapter one the other minister it was nearing midnight and the prime minister was sitting alone in his office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind. he was waiting for a call from the president of a far distant country, and between wondering when the wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and difficult week, there was not much space in his head for anything else. the more he attempted to focus on the print on the page before him, the more clearly the prime minister could see the gloating face of one of his political opponents. this particular opponent had appeared on the news that very day, not only to enumerate all the terrible things that had happened …

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rely concealing his own broad grin. and unfortunately, this was perfectly true. the prime minister felt it himself; people really did seem more miserable than usual. even the weather was dismal; all this chilly mist in the middle of july… it wasn’t right, it wasn’t normal… he turned over the second page of the memo, saw how much longer it went on, and gave it up as a bad job. stretching his arms above his head he looked around his office mournfully. it was a handsome room, with a fine marble fireplace facing the long sash windows, firmly closed against the unseasonable chill. with a slight shiver, the prime minister got up and moved over to the window, looking out at the thin mist that was pressing itself against the glass. it was then, as he stood with his back to the room, that he heard a soft cough behind …

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tomorrow night instead,” said the little man. “kindly respond immediately to mr. fudge.” “i… oh… very well,” said the prime minister weakly. “yes, i’ll see fudge.” he hurried back to his desk, straightening his tie as he went. he had barely resumed his seat, and arranged his face into what he hoped was a relaxed and unfazed expression, when bright green flames burst into life in the empty grate beneath his marble mantelpiece. he watched, trying not to betray a flicker of surprise or alarm, as a portly man appeared within the flames, spinning as fast as a top. seconds later, he had climbed out onto a rather fine antique rug, brushing ash from the sleeves of his long pin-striped cloak, a lime-green bowler hat in his hand. “ah… prime minister,” said cornelius fudge, striding forward with his hand outstretched. “good to see you again.” the prime minister could not …

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murders… not to mention the ruckus in the west country…” “you — er — your — i mean to say, some of your people were — were involved in those — those things, were they?” fudge fixed the prime minister with a rather stern look. “of course they were,” he said, “surely you’ve realized what’s going on?” “i…” hesitated the prime minister. it was precisely this sort of behavior that made him dislike fudge’s visits so much. he was, after all, the prime minister and did not appreciate being made to feel like an ignorant schoolboy. but of course, it had been like this from his very first meeting with fudge on his very first evening as prime minister. he remembered it as though it were yesterday and knew it would haunt him until his dying day. he had been standing alone in this very office, savoring the triumph that …

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of the still- dumbstruck prime minister in a fatherly sort of way. “not to worry,” he had said, “it’s odds-on you’ll never see me again. i’ll only bother you if there’s something really serious going on our end, something that’s likely to affect the muggles — the non-magical population, i should say. otherwise, it’s live and let live. and i must say, you’re taking it a lot better than your predecessor. he tried to throw me out the window, thought i was a hoax planned by the opposition.” at this, the prime minister had found his voice at last. “you’re — you’re not a hoax, then?” it had been his last, desperate hope. “no,” said fudge gently. “no, i’m afraid i’m not. look.” and he had turned the prime minister’s teacup into a gerbil. “but,” said the prime minister breathlessly, watching his teacup chewing on the corner of his next …

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harry potter and the half-blood prince by j.k. rowling chapter one the other minister it was nearing midnight and the prime minister was sitting alone in his office, reading a long memo that was slipping through his brain without leaving the slightest trace of meaning behind. he was waiting for a call from the president of a far distant country, and between wondering when the wretched man would telephone, and trying to suppress unpleasant memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and difficult week, there was not much space in his head for anything else. the more he attempted to focus on the print on the page before him, the more clearly the prime minister could see the …

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