pdf - dance with me harry - Sahits

Cho stood directly in his path, feet set firmly to block his escape. Her eyes narrowed in righteous
fury.
"It WAS you!" she said through gritted teeth. "I knew it was you all along. You killed Cedric!"
* * *
Harry sat bolt upright in the bed, one hand reaching for his glasses, the other for his scar. His brow
was soaked in perspiration, his body rigid in tension. But the scar did not pain him beyond the stress
of the dream. He took several heaving breaths before any rational thought would return.
A dream, he thought. Only a terrible nightmare.
Harry shook his head to regain his composure before looking around to get his bearings.
He was at Number 4 Privet Drive.
Slowly, it came back to him. Less than 24 hours ago, he had left Hogwarts. Less than 24 hours ago,
he'd given Fred and George Weasley his thousand-galleon prize from the Triwizard Tournament.
Less than 24 hours ago, he had bid Ron a fond farewell. And less than 24 hours ago, Hermione had
kissed him on Platform 9 3/4.
Harry's breathing had returned to normal, but he still was shaken by the dream. He turned to the
battered alarm clock that had served Dudley through two years of tantrums and now was enjoying a
second life in Harry's bedroom, minus the clear plastic face cover and the internal light to let the
sleepless know the time of night in the dark. He could just make out in the false dawn coming
through his window that it was 5:18 in the morning.
He lay there debating. He could roll over and try to sleep another hour or so, but he knew that this
would be useless. Finally, he climbed out of bed and wearily began going through the motions of
living a life at Number 4 Privet Drive.
* * *
"Come on, boy, you should have had that done already," Harry's Uncle Vernon grumped from
behind the morning paper.
Harry shifted uncomfortably over the stove, rolling the sausages to make sure they were evenly
cooked before putting the eggs on. Aunt Petunia was busily toasting more bread for Dudley, who
was lavishing spoons of strawberry jam on the toast before him and grumbling about how he'd
reached the bottom of the jar.
Harry noticed how his aunt and uncle kept giving him surreptitious glances throughout the morning,
as if to discover he'd grown some new appendage since last summer's end. Dudley, however, was
being Dudley, supremely unconcerned with anything except his own immediate interests and
appetites and, except for jostling Harry out of the way on his journey to the breakfast table earlier,
paid Harry no mind.
Finishing the cooking, Harry distributed the breakfast evenly, only to have Dudley spear his
sausages before Harry had a chance to return to the table.
"Hey," Harry cried.
"Oh be quiet," Aunt Petunia said harshly. "You're too small to need more than what you've got on
your plate."
Harry sank down in his chair in a sulk. He looked venomously at Dudley, who was muttering about
the end of the jam. Harry picked at his egg and a slice of dry toast sullenly. When he arrived home,
he had noticed that he was now taller than Dudley, but that, where he had grown taller in the past
ten months, his cousin had seemed to have grown wider.
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