Harry, who\u2019s torn between her and Ginny, who\u2019s torn between him and Draco Malfoy, who\u2019s torn between her and loyalty to his father. Voldemort may be trying to recruit Harry now instead of killing him, and there are giants and house elves and a Dueling Club, oh my! Warning: sex, sexual tension, angst and tragedy.
various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Rain- coast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Harry had planned to sleep late on his \ufb01rst day of summer vacation. He felt as if he needed to sleep for a year after what he\u2019d been through during his fourth year of wizarding training. Harry Potter was possibly the most famous wizard in the world, apart from the dark wizard who had killed his parents. And now he was probably even more famous, having won the Triwizard Tournament just a couple of weeks ago. But he was only famous in the wizarding world; in the non-magical, Muggle world, he was just an annoyance to his aunt and uncle and cousin. He just wanted to sleep late and try to forget everything that had happened to him during the previous ten months.
But instead, he awoke at seven-thirty in the morning to the shouts of workmen, the squeal and grinding of a backhoe, and the shrill voice of his aunt shouting instructions to the workers who had been hired to relandscape the garden at Four Privet Drive, where Harry felt about as welcome as an arsonist in a paper factory. It was impossible to continue to sleep with all the racket, so Harry resigned himself to it and threw back the sheet, sitting on the edge of the bed and fumbling on his bedside table for his glasses. The room came into focus now, littered with wizarding paraphernalia that was spilling out of his trunk, which he had not properly unpacked yet. He rose to walk to the wardrobe and stood looking at his re\ufb02ection in the mirror on the inside of the door.
He had grown several inches during the previous year, and the bottoms of his pajama pants hovered around his shins. He\u2019d been so busy just trying to stay alive through the Triwizard Tour- nament that he hadn\u2019t even noticed that he now had a full-blown Adam\u2019s apple. He tried to sing a little of his school\u2019s song, to see how his voice sounded. Traditionally, at Hogwart\u2019s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, everyone sang the school song to a different tune. He was partial to Loch Lomond and started singing, \u201cI\u2019ll take the high road and you\u2019ll take the low road....\u201d but it came out sounding rather like a cross between a garden gnome being sat on by a dragon and a rabid cat being kicked about. He cleared his throat and tried again, managing this time to produce a recognizable tune in a reedy tenor, causing him to be optimistic, but halfway through the \ufb01rst verse, his voice cracked and made a noise that was so startling that his snowy owl Hedwig squawked in her cage and \ufb02apped her wings agitatedly.
worker now replied, \u201cCor, Dick, I think it was someonesinging.\u201d Harry grimaced into the mirror; he decided to drop the voice experiments for now and lifted up his hair, examining the lightening- shaped scar on his forehead, a mark he\u2019d received as a baby on the night Voldemort killed his parents, and attempted to kill him. He let the hair \ufb02op back onto his face. He needed a haircut. When he was younger, he\u2019d always fought against haircuts (his aunt and uncle were endlessly frustrated by his hair), but now he was thinking he needed something that made him look a bit less like a scared little kid (as though it were standing on end because he was afraid) and a lot more like a wizard that a powerful Dark Lord had to take seriously.
He also noticed that there was a dark, downy haze starting to appear on his chin and upper lip and along his jawline. Facial hair! At last! Maybe he would be shaving before the summer was over; he wondered whether there were special charmed razors that wouldn\u2019t ever cut a person\u2019s skin while shaving. There had to be something; he\u2019d never noticed a single wizard walking about with little tufts of toilet paper stuck to the shaving cuts on his face, like his Uncle Vernon did every morning. Sometimes they fell off his face at the breakfast table and dropped into his coffee or his food; Harry never said anything when this happened, trying not to grin broadly as he watched his detested uncle eat a spoonful of eggs prominently adorned with a wad of bloody paper, which his uncle did not notice when his face was buried in the morning news. At times like this he would invariably say to Harry\u2019s Aunt Petunia, \u201cPetunia! What have you put in the eggs this morning! They\u2019re smashing!\u201d And his aunt would look self-satis\ufb01ed and smug, launching into a discourse
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