Caravaggio Portrait of Alof de Wignacourt

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among them a family of high repute, for it was large and than most, and it was ruled by a grandmother of the folk, stern and wise in old lore, such as they had. The most inquisitive and curious-minded of that family was called Sméagol. He was interested in roots and beginnings; he dived into deep pools; he burrowed under trees and growing plants; he tunnelled into green mounds; and he ceased to look up at the hill-tops, or the leaves on trees, or the flowers opening in the air: his head and his eyes were downward.‘He had a friend called Déagol, of similar sort, sharper-eyed but not so quick and strong. On a time they took a boat and went down to the he thought he saw something shining in the river-bed; and holding his breath he grabbed at it.‘Then up he came spluttering, with weeds in his hair and a handful of mud; and he swam to the bank. And behold! when he washed the mud away, there in his hand lay a beautiful golden ring; Gladden Fields, where there were great beds of iris and flowering reeds. There Sméagol got out and went nosing about the banks but Déagol sat in the boat and fished. Suddenly a great fish took his hook, and before he knew where he was, he was dragged out and down into the water, to the bottom. Then he let go of his line, for

Neiman The Beatles

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discovery of the significance of these glimpses and of their relation to the ancient histories revealed the Third Age and its culmination in the War of the Ring.Those who had asked for more information about hobbits eventually got it, but they had to wait a long time; for the composition of The Lord of the Rings went on at Book Five; and there as the beacons flared in Anórien and Théoden came to Harrowdale I stopped. Foresight had failed and there was no time for thought.It was during 1944 that, leaving the loose ends and perplexities of a war which it was my task to conduct, or at least to report, I forced myself to tackle the journey of Frodo to Mordor. These Chapters, eventually to become Book Four, were written and sent out as a serial to my son, Christopher, then intervals during the years 1936 to 1949, a period in which I had many duties that I did not neglect, and many other interests as a learner and teacher that often absorbed me. The delay was, of course, also increased by the outbreak of war in 1939, by the end of which year the tale had not yet reached the end of Book One. In spite of the darkness of the next five years I found that the story could not now be wholly abandoned, and I plodded on, mostly by night, till I stood by Balin's tomb in Moria. There I halted for a long while. It was almost a year later when I went on and so came to Lothlórien and the Great River late in 1941. In the next year I wrote the first drafts of the matter that now stands as Book Three, and the beginnings of Chapters I and III of

Lawrence Alma-Tadema Tarquinius Superbus

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forest, with no idea where exactly Voldemort was, but sure that he would find him. Beside him, making scarcely a sound, walked James, Sirius, Lupin, and Lily, and their presence was his courage, and the reason he was able to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
　"Someone there," came a rough whisper close at hand. "He's got an Invisibility Cloak. Could it be --- ?"
　　　His body and mind felt oddly disconnected now, his limbs working without conscious instruction, as if he were passenger, not driver, in the body he was about to leave. The dead who walked beside him through the forest were much more real to him now than the living back at the castle: Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and all the others were the ones who felt like ghosts as he stumbled and slipped toward the Voldemort . . .

　　　A thud and a whisper: Some other living creature had stirred close by. Harry stopped under the Cloak, peering around, listening, and his mother and father, Lupin and Sirius stopped too.

　　

Cezanne Mount Sainte-Victoire Seen from Bellevue

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the other Weasleys, and above all make sure, make quite sure, that

Ginny was not--but he could not permit that idea to form in his

mind--
"You need to find out where Voldemort is, because he'll have the snake with him, won't he? Do it, Harry--look inside him!" Why was it so easy? Because his scar had been burning for hours,
"We will fight!" Hermione said. "We'll have to, to reach the snake!

But let's not lose sight now of what we're supposed to be d-doing!

We're the only ones who can end it!"

She was crying too, and she wiped her face on her torn and singed

sleeve as she spoke, but she took great heaving breaths to calm

herself as, still keeping a tight hold on ron, she turned to Harry.

Romanello Bethpage Black, 18th Hole

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"Must've learned from the Carrows," said Harry grimly.

　　　"Shame he wasn't concentrating when they mentioned how to stop it, really," said Ron, whose hair, like Hermione's, was singed, and whose face was blackened. "If he hadn't tried to kill us all, I'd be quite sorry he was dead."　　　Harry, Ron, and Hermione ran forward to help: Jets of light flew in every direction and the man dueling Percy backed off, fast: Then his hood slipped and they saw a high forehead and streaked hair – 　　　"Hello, Minister!" bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx

　　　"But don't you realize?" whispered Hermione. "This means, if we can just get the snake –"

　　　But she broke off as yells and shouts and the unmistakable noises of dueling filled the corridor. Harry looked around and his heart seemed to fail: Death Eaters had penetrated Hogwarts. Fred and Percy had just backed into view, both of them dueling masked and hooded men.

Kahlo Self Portrait with Royal Gold Vest

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What do you reckon it's looking for?" Ron yelled as they flew farther and farther north.
out of sight beneath them, its enormous shadow sliding over the earth like a giant dark cloud. Every part of Harry ached with the effort of holding on to the dragon's back. 　"Is it my imagination," shouted Ron after a considerable stretch of silence, "or are we losing height?" 　Harry looked down and saw deep green mountains and lakes, coppery
　"No idea," Harry bellow back. His hands were numb with cold but he did not date attempt to shift his grip. He had been wondering for some time what they would do if they saw the coast sail beneath them, if the dragon headed for open seal he was cold and numb, not to mention desperately hungry and thirsty. When, he wondered, had the beast itself last eaten? Surely it would need sustenance before long? And what if, at that point, it realized it had three highly edible humans sitting on its back?

　The sun slipped lower in the sky, which was turning indigo; and still the dragon flew, cities and towns gliding

McCormack Mother and Child

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me about it but I haven't seen it yet, because the Death Eaters took me from the Hogwarts

Express and I Christmas," Luna was saying, as she and Dean relit the

fire.

"Luna, we told you," Hermione called over to her. "That horn exploded. It came from an
Ollivander down the stairs. The wandmaker still looked exceptionally frail, and he clung to Bill's arm as the latter supported him, carrying a large suitcase. "I'm going to miss you, Mr. Ollivander," said Luna, approaching the old man.
Erumpent, not a Crumple-Horned Snorkack --"

"No, it was definitely a Snorkack horn," said Luna serenely, "Daddy told me. It will

probably have re-formed by now, they mend themselves, you know."

Hermione shook her head and continued laying down forks as Bill appeared, leading Mr.


"And I you, my dear," said Ollivander, patting her on the shoulder.

"You were an inexpressible comfort to me in that terrible