Acknowledge applause after a performance by bowing. Withdraw or retire from an activity or role. A statement or gesture intended to frighten someone into changing their course of action. Archaic words have a charm that never fades away, from French sounding to wondrously mysterious ones. We use cookies to enhance your experience on our website. This website uses cookies that provide targeted advertising and which track your use of this website. You can change your cookie settings at any time. Potter had been missing for one day.
No one outside Hogwarts knew yet, even the students didn't exactly know. Albus had spent hours yesterday and through the night consulting his trinkets and performing two dozen spells. The boy was obviously under heavy wards, very heavy ones. So, he'd opted to attend a magical school or enroll in some form of apprenticeship with a paranoid sort of wizard.
Today, Albus was going to check the usual suspects. He'd already cleared Moody and Proudfoot last night. Neither had taken in any young apprentices who would be better off at Hogwarts. Harry was breathing hard and feeling the pain of his first session of Physical Education. They'd been out running in the grass surrounding the school. It had felt wonderful.
Harry had, of necessity, become quite a gifted sprinter earlier in his life but, oddly, also had the stamina to run for longer distances.
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He walked back to his room and collapsed into the shower. Things were so different here already. He went through his day quickly. He especially enjoyed his first flying lesson from the Flying Team that afternoon. You know the safety procedure and have done some basic back and forth flying. Potter here just showed up, so we'll cut him some slack. Everyone call your brooms and mount up. He'd never felt such freedom in the air. He did the safety lesson quickly, particularly as he didn't seem given to falling off his own broom, and caught up with the others who were learning some of the basics of 'swift breaking.
Finally, as everyone else looked a bit tired, they decided to do a quick drill to improve Quidditch skills. The fifth year who ran the Flying Team lobbed golf balls into the air and had the first years attempt to catch them. None of the ones pitches towards Harry hit the ground. He caught them all, even ones that his neighboring compatriots were bound to let fall.
Potter seems like he has quite an eye, might be a good seeker. Not everyone's meant to catch the Snitch. He really loved flying. He decided to get into Dublin on the holiday and buy his own broom. Albus Dumbledore wasn't having a good day. He'd checked the nine magical day schools in Britain before taking an international portkey to Beauxbatons. He sat down, finally back in his office, and tried to sort through all of the relevant facts. Harry realized his mail had been denied him. He somehow realized that he shouldn't say anything about it to the staff or even his friends.
Then he saw something in the mail that encouraged him to leave. It couldn't be a cursed object, the mail wards would have seen to that. What kind of letter would be good enough to persuade Harry to leave…. A letter from them. They'd poached more than a few of the brightest intended for Hogwarts. Albus had had to personally go and re-persuade more than a handful of eleven-year-olds, including one young witch named Lily Evans many years ago. Albus had tried to find the place dozens of times, mostly out of curiosity, some out of pique.
He stumbled from his office and began searching the Hogwarts castle and grounds for portkey residue. It'd be more than a full day old by now, but it might still be useful. Dumbledore used his magic sensing skills and quickly found himself standing at the outer gates of the grounds. Harry had used his portkey here, it seemed. Albus gathered up the remaining magical essence from the portkey and then followed behind its trail. He landed with a jarring shudder in the middle of a rather dark forest.
And his magic sensing skills were going crazy. They could detect Harry everywhere. Albus got up, almost against his will, and began to wander the forest calling out for Harry Potter.
It would be four days before he stopped doing it. That was when he collapsed in utter exhaustion with a severe case of dehydration. The leprechauns who came across this wizard in their forest took some pity on the old food. Had no one counseled him about not ever going questing on leprechaun lands? Lesser mortals often went insane. They drug him to the edge of a clear lake and dropped him in. They had a good laugh before they toddled off into the twilight.
Harry made it through his Latin and French lessons on Saturday and then went to take a quick nap before lunch. He'd never worked this hard in his life. He was tired all the time from the exercise, the magic, the constant thinking, and the homework. But he wasn't unhappy. He'd done well in his first round of tutorials and liked most of his teachers. A few seemed indifferent to teaching at all, but Harry didn't mind them.
He'd work around their incompetence. None of them actively went after Harry like Snape had. None of them bored him to sleep like Binns had. He'd also struck up a few friendships with a few boys his age and slightly older — and a continued few correspondences with folks back in Britain who could seem to hold an intelligent conversation by owl post.
Hedwig and Mipsy had been busy receiving and delivering mail this week, particularly once Harry and then Dumbledore went missing. Witches and wizards apparently thought they could fix everything with poorly spelled letters and ancient owls. Harry suspected that his former Headmaster was now trying to track him down. He should have felt nervous, but he didn't. Instead of nerves, he felt something else. Harry was beginning to be able to consider that he might actually be safe and secure in his new surroundings.
The first of October hit Albus Dumbledore like a sledgehammer. He had lost and failed to recover Harry Potter, the suspect teacher Quirinus Quirrell had been eaten by Hagrid's dog Fluffy during Dumbledore's extended absence, and now Dumbledore was trying to teach Defence, recruit a new teacher, and strengthen the protections for the Stone but not make it so hard that three determined first-year students couldn't make it through the course. And he also continued searching for Harry Potter. And this particular day was especially awful because Albus needed Cornelius Fudge's assistance.
And Dumbledore hated stupid people, especially stupid people who'd stumbled into powerful situations. Thus he loathed Cornelius Fudge. He'd initially deigned to assist Fudge once he'd become Minister for the simple reason that stupid people didn't dig into things they shouldn't in most cases. Fudge deviated from the average: Dumbledore had already planned out how Fudge would simply 'disappear' one day with a good chunk of the Ministry's funds.
No one knew exactly where Bagnold had gone after her term in office, did they? Dumbledore decided to push forward his plans. Prophet 's been screaming about this for almost two weeks now. I'll push it through once we receive it, then this will all be taken care of…". Wanted to make a fool out of me, did you? If he's really there, you're not getting him back until Christmas at the earliest…and that's even if we win against the Irish, bloody tricksy bastards. Swear every one of them is part-Leprechaun if I didn't know better.
Dumbledore wasn't feeling all that charitable about leprechauns at the present moment, but he did keep quiet. It took Albus Dumbledore thirty minutes to convince Cornelius Fudge to draw up the papers. Then he worked closely with the three Ministry officials who did the work to be sure every propriety, rule, and regulation was followed. Getting bounced out of the ICW court on a technicality was an almost everyday occurrence. Dumbledore himself was guilty of bouncing a slew of annoying or unfavorable petitions for incorrect formatting or improper ink usage or failure to adhere to the proper format.
Rules, after all, were past, present, and future of every bureaucrat. Albus loved playing those games from time to time. Now he would use his knowledge to get him what he wanted. Harry Potter was learning his first offensive jinx. He was about to have a bit of a duel with a fellow classmate, Sean O'Keefe.
They had dodging, running, and the leg-locker as options. The first one to fall — for whatever reason — won the duel.
bow | Definition of bow in English by Oxford Dictionaries
Neither boy had perfected the casting of the jinx before they arrived at class. Harry had spent an hour at the practice room trying to get it, but it wouldn't come. However, when his blood was pumping after dodging half-formed wisps of Sean's jinx, Harry had his first breakthrough. He said the words, waved his wands, and the jinx flew out of the wand.
Sean was down about a minute into the duel. His instructor pulled Harry aside later. Potter, that you're going to be better in high adrenaline situations than you would be in an academic casting environment. I'd suggest partnering up when you try spells, especially offensive and defensive ones. If you make it seem real, your magic is likely to respond better and more forcefully. It'll probably speed your learning up…". Harry's name had come up more than once. Harry tried to disappear by slumping down in his seat before he became a bit angry.
The lecturer finally started to talk about things that Harry knew were wrong. Here Harry did sit back up in his seat. He raised his hand to ask a question, but it was quite a few moments before the lecturer noticed him. But Harry Potter — me — left Hogwarts and came here. I've been here for eleven weeks now…". Harry stopped listening to the woman after that. So did many of his fellow classmates.
If she couldn't keep up on current events, such as Harry coming to the Scoil, how could they trust the rest of her facts? I've had excellent reports from all your tutors, Harry, very well done. You are cleared to continue on for another term.
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Harry appeared to already have suspected this. He was such a happy, pleasant child. Given his background, Orion couldn't help but feel surprised every time the thought occurred to him. I remember you mentioning that Charms is a favorite class for most beginning students. I believe you were correct. I also particularly enjoyed the Introduction to Wizarding Culture…". You are the first Muggle-raised or muggle-born wizard we've had at the school in thirty years. Quite a few of the ones we invited were poached away by the other, larger schools.
Muggles seem to equate the size of the school with the quality of the education provided; not sure why that is exactly. Still, I'm quite sure the Introduction was very helpful. So, before we talk about next term, I wonder if you'd share with me your other highlights? I've gotten loads better at learning new spells. The tutor in my English course finally taught me how to write an essay, sir. No one else had ever explained it well before…" Harry was glad to talk for almost ten minutes on his progress. He'd become quite the little scholar, given the proper environment. And all my other classes stay the same.
It sounds fine to me. He had a prize here. He just needed to keep expanding and challenging young Potter. More courses, harder courses. He'd have a word with the boy's tutors to speed up the usual curricula. Orion suspected the boy would do very well. He would be truly gifted by the time he was fourteen. It'll just be a few hours during the term, I think, with no papers or anything. Just to help you master your skills. I am still looking for someone who can work with you on your metamorphmagery, though.
There are so few publicly acknowledged in the world right now. Perhaps I'll ask around in China and India. Harry had only met the Headmaster twice, but he felt that the man was a good one, doing the right things. He was friendly and offered good advice and he'd gone out of his way to make Harry feel at home. I plan to spend a few days visiting my friend Victor at the New Year, though. And maybe during the next break I can catch a professional Quidditch game. The Flying Team is awesome, Professor…".
I produced the writ of sanctuary, along with the supporting evidence. Instead of just giving it to the ICW so it could disappear or be destroyed such a bastion of corruption , I gave several copies out. The Irish press began eating Britain and Hogwarts alive.
The British Ministry not checking on your welfare all those years; those horrible Muggles; the Headmaster setting owl wards without your consent or knowledge, then hiding your mail inside the dungeons of his school. They thought they were being clever using the ICW to do their dirty work. They just look like thugs now. Actually, they're in fear you'll actually show your face and pull out some pensieve testimony to make everyone look even worse…".
Be sure to take precautions when you're outside of the school. And perhaps you want to see if there are any books in the library on metamorph magic that you haven't already checked out. You might try experimenting to see what you can achieve, eh? Albus downed his third Firewhiskey of the evening. It had been a hellacious term. He'd only just managed to secure the services of a new DADA instructor for the following term and he wasn't feeling too comfortable with the candidate. The only candidate after months of looking after all, who wanted to follow in the footsteps of a man who'd been eaten by a three-headed dog?
Albus had gone back and looked at his personal notes of former students. The boy had been a middling student thirty years ago, now he was a famous author and destroyer of dark creatures. But it didn't add up to Albus. And it wasn't as if he could take a peek and see; the man had quite firm Occlumency protections in place. The biggest problem was that couldn't pass the brief practical examination Albus had given him. How could the man honestly teach NEWT-level defence if he couldn't form an adequate Shield Charm or use basic Transfiguration in a defensive scenario? Of course, Albus hadn't said that Lockhart had failed the exam, but it should have been obvious.
Still Albus gave the man a six-month contract. He knew it would come back to bite him. Merlin's heavenly mess, even this Lockhart would be better than Albus continuing to teach the young monsters. He'd forgotten how utterly exhausting they were, how needy, how completely unschooled. Forty-plus years out of the classroom had taught Albus it was foolish to walk back inside one.
He slugged back his glass before realizing it was empty. He'd need another one before he could think about the drubbing he'd received at the ICW. He'd been caught, actually caught , in four illegal actions. Worse yet, it hadn't been swept under the carpet. No, the Irish papers reported it. Albus was no longer a senior executive of the ICW. He'd only just survived a vote of no-confidence in the Wizengamot here in Britain. And the Board of Governors was grumbling. They'd scheduled six meetings during the next term, like they wanted to be around Hogwarts constantly to spy on Albus Dumbledore.
Why had Harry gone? It made all this so much harder. Albus had plans that required the boy. He needed to be back within Albus' firm guidance.
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How to do it? How to get around that blasted Scoil? Albus needed someone with legal standing…oh, no. Albus could only think of a single person.
He took a look at the mostly empty bottle and knocked the rest back again. Harry was eating dinner with a few of his friends when Mipsy brought Hedwig into the dining hall. Ordinarily owls were allowed only with the students' rooms. For Mipsy to do this meant the owl's message was very important. Harry removed the message from his owl and set to reading it. It seemed to be from someone called Sirius Black, a man who was claiming to be Harry's godfather. He briefly explained his friendship with Harry's father and mother — and his years unlawfully imprisoned for a crime he didn't commit.
He asked to meet with Harry. Orion Murphy-Black continued eating for a few moments before he dropped his fork. Innocent, denied a trial ten years earlier. This sounds like a bad Muggle book, the Count of Monte Cristo or something. Sirius was my distant relation, a seventh cousin twice removed or something like that. I met Lily Evans, your mother, through him. I knew he went to Azkaban and I could never quite believe he would do the things he was accused of doing…but sent to prison without a trial.
That's got to be one of the very worst things to have happen. At the very least, I will send him the names of a couple excellent law wizards. I'd recommend corresponding with them until then. It's possible he's been fed a lot of lies by the people who just released him. It does seem a touch convenient, the timing of all this. He sits in a cell for ten years before anyone realizes he'd never been tried; then they try him and discover he's actually innocent?
This is more of Dumbledore's mess, but at least you can benefit from it.
The Sirius I knew was a very interesting person, brash, funny, intensely loyal, but a touch cruel. Perhaps the years have softened him a bit — or, unfortunately, perhaps they've hardened him. His writing you a letter is a good sign. I would write back, young Harry. Harry smiled, got up from the table, and ran out of the dining hall. He obviously wanted to start his letter right now. He'd never really met anyone who could tell him about his parents. Dumbledore and McGonagall probably could have, but never tried. That first letter from Sirius spawned a near daily stream of correspondence between the pair.
There was nothing important in the letters: Harry's report on his schooling and a few questions he wanted to ask; Sirius' stories about Harry's parents and some return questions. It was a nice spring day. It was even nicer that Sirius Black was a free man — and that his lawyers were shredding the British Ministry of Magic into ribbons. Sirius wanted them to pay as much as he could squeeze out of them…so that he could promptly and very publicly donate all of it to charity. The Veteran Auror's Debilitation Fund.
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The Strife Relief Fund. Scoil ar Draiocht Glas, which was currently educating his godson. All of them had left Sirius to rot. All of them could go straight to Dis and beg for mercy. Sirius was a smart man. He read the winds when he released. He saw why Dumbledore had suddenly remembered about him. He knew they wanted Harry the second Dumbledore ever so casually mentioned that Harry Potter had elected to attend school in Ireland.
Then he got confirmation after confirmation in what had happened before and after his 'trial. Sirius wasn't having any more of Dumbledore's nonsense. He wanted to be with his godson, to help educate him, to protect him. The way he should have done years ago. Sirius had been an Auror. There was no good reason for him to have handed his responsibility to that half-giant Hagrid. Had he been in his right mind — and thinking of the future and not the painful immediate past, not dwelling on revenge for James and Lily — Sirius would never have done it.
Sirius would have taken Harry and left Peter the Rat to Ministry justice. These were the people who had placed Harry with those 'relatives' of his. They were on Sirius Black's list. Sirius wondered what Harry was like now. Did he look like James had? Or more like Lily? Was he kind, funny — or had the Muggles ruined the Potter essence inside him? Sirius felt his stomach clench.
From the letters Sirius had exchanged with his godson, he was sure that Harry was quite bright and enthusiastic. He was planning on attending his first Quidditch match in a few days, but reported he was pretty decent on a broom from the informal lessons he'd been taking.
Sirius was ripped from his thoughts when a mousy haired young man stepped in front of Sirius' table. Sirius clamped his mouth shut before he could shout out, "Harry Potter. You follow behind me in two minutes. We'll wind up at the park near the river. Sirius had to forcibly restrain himself from hugging his godson before the boy walked away.
Because of the disguise, he looked nothing like James. But, he sounded like him. He had the same smile, even. Sirius got up, dropped a few bills on the table, and followed along behind. He purposely stopped at a few store windows to admire this or that trinket. But he never lost sight of his godson. It was fun, this little game they were playing. Sirius didn't think he had anyone tailing him in Ireland, but he wouldn't put it past Dumbledore.
Well, it might be Moody, but not in a heavily Muggle area like this. How many Muggles had peg legs, scarred faces, and magical whirling eyes? He saw Harry stop and sit down on a park bench. Sirius didn't waver in his concentration on arriving at that bench. A few minutes later, Sirius took a seat as well. I don't know what to say. I've thought about you probably every day since you were born and this is the first time we get to meet since you were a toddler, on a park bench in Dublin. I'm so happy to be free again…and that you agreed to write to me and then to meet with me…". Black, until I got your letter.
A lot in my life hasn't been my choice. A lot has been hidden from me. And you were just the kind of person I've always wanted to meet: I'm just a regular student here. I'm good at Charms and Defense. I'm becoming a pretty good flier. And I get to do all my old subjects from when I was younger plus learn magic. We learned about leprechauns and dragons this past term — I really liked the dragons. They had two Welsh Greens and a Hebridean Black. During the summer break, I plan to go to Romania with some other students to the dragon preserve. By clicking "Post Your Answer", you acknowledge that you have read our updated terms of service , privacy policy and cookie policy , and that your continued use of the website is subject to these policies.
Home Questions Tags Users Unanswered. Does my surmise about the use of this word have some connection with reality? And how does one pronounce this word in this context? Michael Hardy 3 One does pronounce it as in English. I'd say the purpose is less to remind the reader that the conversation is taking place among English-speaking people, but to translate a polite form of address that has no equivalent in German, so one option is to simply leave it as it is.
Sir is a peerage, that has no exact counterpart in other languages. In German you could say something like this: Grammar of this part of speech: This part of speech usually is built in German by using "mein" singular or "meine" plural: Ladies and Gentlemen You could also use " sehr verehrte r ": Do you know my father, sir?