Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince Audiobook by Stephen Fry


Chapter 1: the other Minister
It was once nearing midnight and the top Minister used to be sitting by myself in his place of business, reading a long memo that was slipping via his brain with out leaving the slightest trace of that means at the back of. He was ready for a name from the President of a a ways far-off nation, and between wondering when the wretched man would cell, and looking to suppress unpleasant memories of what had been a very long, tiring, and intricate week, there was not so much space in his head for whatever else. The extra he tried to focal point on the print on the web page before him, the more obviously the top Minister might see the gloating face of certainly one of his political opponents. This distinct opponent had appeared on the information that very day, no longer most effective to enumerate the entire horrible matters that had happened within the final week (as though any one needed reminding) but in addition to give an explanation for why each one of them was the federal government’s fault.
The high Minister’s pulse quickened at the very inspiration of those accusations, for they had been neither reasonable nor proper. How in the world was once his executive alleged to have stopped that bridge collapsing? It used to be outrageous for any person to recommend that they were not spending enough on bridges. The bridge was once fewer than ten years historic, and the fine experts have been at a loss to provide an explanation for why it had snapped cleanly in two, sending a dozen cars into the watery depths of the river below. And the way dare any individual advise that it was lack of policemen that had resulted in these two very nasty and good-publicized murders? Or that the government must have by some means foreseen the freak storm in the West nation that had prompted so much harm to both people and property? And used to be it his fault that one among his Junior
Ministers, Herbert Chorley, had chosen this week to behave so mainly that he was once now going to be spending a lot more time with his loved ones?
“A grim mood has gripped the country,” the opponent had concluded, barely concealing his own huge grin.
And lamentably, this was flawlessly authentic. The high Minister felt it himself; folks particularly did appear extra miserable than common. Even the weather was once dismal; all this chilly mist within the core of July. It wasn’t proper, it wasn’t ordinary…
He turned over the 2nd web page of the memo, noticed how for much longer it went on, and gave it up as a nasty job. Stretching his fingers above his head he appeared round his workplace mournfully. It was a handsome room, with a satisfactory marble hearth going through the long sash home windows, firmly closed in opposition to the unseasonable sit back. With a moderate shiver, the prime Minister received up and moved over to the window, watching out on the thin mist that used to be urgent itself against the glass. It used to be then, as he stood together with his again to the room, that he heard a delicate cough behind him.
He iced up, nose to nose along with his own scared-looking reflection in the dead of night glass. He knew that cough. He had heard it earlier than. He grew to become very slowly to face the empty room.
“howdy?” he mentioned, seeking to sound braver than he felt.
For a short second he allowed himself the inconceivable hope that nobody would answer him. Nonetheless, a voice spoke back immediately, a crisp, decisive voice that sounded as though it had been studying a prepared announcement. It used to be coming — as the top Minister had identified at the first cough — from the froglike little man sporting a long silver wig who was once depicted in a small, soiled oil painting within the some distance nook of the room.
“To the high Minister of Muggles. Pressing we meet. Kindly reply instantly. Simply, Fudge.”
the person in the painting regarded inquiringly at the high Minister.
“Er,” said the top Minister, “hear… It can be no longer a very good time for me… I am waiting for a cell name, you see… From the President of–”
“that may be rearranged,” mentioned the portrait at once. The high Minister’s coronary heart sank. He had been fearful of that.
“however I particularly used to be as a substitute hoping to converse–”
“we will arrange for the President to omit to name. He’ll phone the next day night time as a substitute,” stated the little man. “Kindly reply right away to Mr. Fudge.”
“I… Oh… Very well,” stated the prime Minister weakly. “sure, i’ll see Fudge.”
He hurried again to his desk, straightening his tie as he went. He had barely resumed his seat, and organized his face into what he hoped used to be a at ease and unfazed expression, when brilliant inexperienced flames burst into life in the empty grate underneath his marble mantelpiece. He watched, making an attempt not to betray a flicker of shock or alarm, as a portly man regarded inside the flames, spinning as speedy as a top. Seconds later, he had climbed out onto a as a substitute first-class vintage rug, brushing ash from the sleeves of his lengthy pin-striped cloak, a lime-green bowler hat in his hand.
“Ah… Top Minister,” said Cornelius Fudge, striding ahead along with his hand outstretched. “excellent to peer you again.”
The top Minister would not honestly return this compliment, so mentioned nothing in any respect. He was once not remotely cheerful to peer Fudge, whose occasional appearances, aside from being downright alarming in themselves, as a rule meant that he was once about to hear some very unhealthy news. Furthermore, Fudge was watching fantastically pressured. He was once thinner, balder, and grayer, and his face had a crumpled seem. The high Minister had seen that type of appear in politicians before, and it in no way boded good.
“How can i support you?” he said, shaking Fudge’s hand very in brief and gesturing towards the toughest of the chairs in entrance of the desk.
“difficult to know where to start,” muttered Fudge, pulling up the chair, sitting down, and inserting his green bowler upon his knees. “What per week, what per week…”
“Had a nasty one too, have you?” asked the high Minister stiffly, hoping to carry via this that he had particularly ample on his plate already without any further helpings from Fudge.
“yes, of course,” stated Fudge, rubbing his eyes wearily and watching morosely on the prime Minister. “i have been having the equal week you might have, high Minister. The Brockdale Bridge… The Bones and Vance murders… To not mention the ruckus within the West country…”
“You–er–your–I imply to say, some of your folks were–have been involved in those–these matters, were they?”
Fudge constant the high Minister with a instead stern look. “Of direction they had been,” he stated, “undoubtedly you’ve got realized what’s going on?”
“I…” hesitated the prime Minister.
It was once precisely this sort of conduct that made him dislike Fudge’s visits a lot. He used to be, in any case, the prime Minister and did not admire being made to think like an ignorant schoolboy. However of course, it had been like this from his very first meeting with Fudge on his very first evening as high Minister. He remembered it as if it had been yesterday and knew it would hang-out him except his death day.
He had been standing on my own in this very place of business, savoring the triumph that was once his after so a long time of dreaming and scheming, when he had heard a cough behind him, similar to tonight, and became to seek out that unsightly little portrait
talking to him, asserting that the Minister of Magic used to be about to reach and introduce himself
Naturally, he had thought that the lengthy campaign and the pressure of the election had precipitated him to head mad. He had been completely terrified to find a portrait talking to him, though this had been nothing to how he felt when a self-proclaimed wizard had bounced out of the fireplace and shaken his hand. He had remained speechless throughout Fudge’s kindly rationalization that there were witches and wizards still residing in secret all over the arena and his reassurances that he was once to not trouble his head about them as the Ministry of Magic took responsibility for the entire Wizarding group and prevented the non-magical populace from getting wind of them. It used to be, stated Fudge, a problematic job that encompassed the whole thing from rules on dependable use of broomsticks to maintaining the dragon population underneath manage (the high Minister remembered clutching the desk for aid at this factor). Fudge had then patted the shoulder of the still-dumbstruck high Minister in a fatherly sort of approach.
“not to worry,” he had stated, “it can be odds-on you’ll never see me again. I’ll handiest hassle you if there is anything quite serious happening our finish, anything that is likely to have an impact on the Muggles–the non-magical populace, I should say. In any other case, it’s are living and let are living. And that i ought to say, you’re taking it significantly better than your predecessor. He tried to throw me out the window, idea I was a hoax planned by means of the opposition.”
At this, the top Minister had determined his voice at final. “you’re–you’re now not a hoax, then?”
It had been his final, determined hope.
“No,” said Fudge gently. “No, i am afraid i am not. Look.”
And he had grew to become the top Minister’s teacup right into a gerbil.
“however,” said the top Minister breathlessly, staring at his teacup chewing on the nook of his next speech, “but why–why has nobody informed me–?”
“The Minister of Magic only exhibits him–or herself to the Muggle prime Minister of the day,” said Fudge, poking his wand back within his jacket. “we find it the great solution to preserve secrecy.”
“but then,” bleated the prime Minister, “why hasn’t a former high Minister warned me–?”
At this, Fudge had truely laughed.
“My expensive prime Minister, are you ever going to inform any person?”
still chortling, Fudge had thrown some powder into the fireside, stepped into the emerald flames, and vanished with a whooshing sound. The prime Minister had stood there, relatively motionless, and realized that he would on no account, as long as he lived, dare point out this encounter to a living soul, for who within the large world would suppose him?
The shock had taken a bit of at the same time to wear off. For a time, he had tried to persuade himself that Fudge had certainly been a hallucination triggered through lack of sleep for the duration of his grueling election crusade. In a useless attempt to rid himself of all reminders of this uncomfortable come across, he had given the gerbil to his delighted niece and prompt his exclusive secretary to take down the portrait of the unsightly little man who had announced Fudge’s arrival. To the top Minister’s dismay, however, the portrait had proved inconceivable to cast off. When a few carpenters, a builder or two, an art historian, and the Chancellor of the Exchequer had all tried unsuccessfully to pry it from the wall, the top Minister had deserted the attempt and quite simply resolved to hope that the thing remained immobile and silent for the rest of his time period in place of work. Every so often he might have sworn he noticed out of the corner of his eye the occupant of the painting yawning, or else scratching his nostril; even, once or twice, effortlessly strolling out of his frame and leaving nothing however a stretch of muddy-brown canvas in the back of. Nonetheless, he had informed himself to not appear on the image very so much, and invariably to inform himself firmly that his eyes have been taking part in tips on him when some thing like this happened.
Then, three years in the past, on a night time very like tonight, the top Minister had been alone in his place of job when the portrait had once once more introduced the approaching arrival of Fudge, who had burst out of the hearth, drenched and in a state of tremendous panic. Before the top Minister might ask why he was dripping in every single place the Axminster, Fudge had began ranting a few jail the high Minister had in no way heard of, a man named “severe” Black, anything that appeared like “Hogwarts,” and a boy called (Harry Potter And The Half Blood Prince Audiobook, none of which made the remotest experience to the top Minister.
“…I’ve just come from Azkaban,” Fudge had panted, tipping a huge quantity of water out of the rim of his bowler hat into his pocket. “core of the North Sea, you understand, nasty flight… The dementors are in uproar”–he shuddered–“they’ve by no means had a breakout earlier than. Anyway, I needed to come to you, top Minister. Black’s a recognized Muggle killer and could also be planning to rejoin You-understand-Who… But of direction, you don’t even recognize who You-understand-who’s!” He had gazed hopelessly at the high Minister for a moment, then mentioned, “good, sit down down, sit down down, i’d higher fill you in… Have a whiskey…”
The prime Minister alternatively resented being informed to sit down in his own workplace, let on my own provided his possess whiskey, however he sat nevertheless. Fudge pulled out his wand, conjured two enormous glasses full of amber liquid out of skinny air, pushed one in all them into the prime Minister’s hand, and drew up a chair.
Fudge had talked for greater than an hour. At one point, he had refused to assert a particular name aloud and wrote it as an alternative on a section of parchment, which he had thrust into the top Minister’s whiskey-free hand. When at final Fudge had stood up to depart, the prime Minister had stood up too.
“so you consider that…” He had squinted down at the identify in his left hand. “Lord Vol–”
“He-Who-have got to-no longer-Be-Named!” tangled up Fudge.
“i’m sorry… You feel that He-Who-have to-not-Be-Named continues to be alive, then?”
“well, Dumbledore says he is,” said Fudge, as he had mounted his pin-striped cloak below his chin, “but we’ve on no account found him. Should you inquire from me, he’s no longer harmful unless he is received aid, so it’s Black we ought to be disturbing about. You can put out that warning, then? High-quality. Good, i hope we don’t see every different once more, top Minister! Just right night time.”
however that they had seen each other once more. Less than a yr later a burdened-looking Fudge had regarded out of skinny air in the cupboard room to inform the prime Minister that there had been a spot of trouble on the Kwidditch (or that was once what it had seemed like) World Cup and that several Muggles had been “worried,” but that the high Minister was once not to fear, the fact that You-recognize-Who’s Mark had been visible again supposed nothing; Fudge was sure it was an isolated incident, and the Muggle Liaison place of job was once coping with all reminiscence changes as they spoke.
“Oh, and i almost forgot,” Fudge had introduced. “We’re importing three foreign dragons and a sphinx for the Triwizard match, quite movements, but the department for the regulation and manipulate of Magical Creatures tells me that it’s down within the rule e-book that we have got to notify you if we’re bringing totally detrimental creatures into the nation.”
“I–what–dragons?” spluttered the prime Minister.
“sure, three,” mentioned Fudge. “And a sphinx. Well, whats up to you.”
The prime Minister had hoped past hope that dragons and sphinxes may be the worst of it, however no. Lower than two years later, Fudge had erupted out of the fireplace all over again, this time with the news that there had been a mass breakout from Azkaban.
“A mass breakout?” repeated the high Minister hoarsely.
“No ought to fear, no ought to worry!” shouted Fudge, already with one foot in the flames. “we’ll have them rounded up in no time–simply notion you need to know!”
And before the top Minister would shout, “Now, wait just one second!” Fudge had vanished in a shower of inexperienced sparks.
Whatever the press and the opposition might say, the top Minister was once no longer a foolish man. It had not escaped his observe that, despite Fudge’s assurances at their first assembly, they had been now seeing rather a lot of each different, nor that Fudge was fitting more flustered with every visit. Little although he favored to feel in regards to the Minister of Magic (or, as he consistently referred to as Fudge in his head, the other Minister), the high Minister would no longer support but worry that the next time Fudge seemed it will be with graver news nonetheless. The web site, as a result, of Fudge stepping out of the fire over again, watching disheveled and fretful and sternly amazed that the top Minister did not comprehend exactly why he used to be there, used to be in regards to the worst factor that had occurred within the course of this extremely gloomy week.
“How will have to i know what is going on on within the–er–Wizarding group?” snapped the high Minister now. “i’ve a country to run and relatively enough concerns on the second without–”
“we’ve got the identical issues,” Fudge interrupted. “The Brock-dale Bridge failed to wear out. That wasn’t really a typhoon. These murders weren’t the work of Muggles. And Herbert Chorley’s family could be safer with out him. We’re presently making preparations to have him transferred to St. Mungo’s clinic for Magical Maladies and accidents. The transfer will have to be affected tonight.”
“What do you… I am afraid I… What?” blustered the high Minister.
Fudge took a quality, deep breath and stated, “prime Minister, i’m very sorry to have to let you know that he is back. He-Who-have to-now not-Be-Named is again.”
“back? While you say ‘again’… He’s alive? I mean–”
The prime Minister groped in his reminiscence for the details of that horrible dialog of three years earlier, when Fudge had instructed him concerning the wizard who was feared chiefly others, the wizard who had dedicated a thousand terrible crimes before his mysterious disappearance fifteen years prior.
“sure, alive,” mentioned Fudge. “that’s–I don’t know–is a man alive if he can’t be killed? I don’t rather realize it, and Dumbledore will not provide an explanation for
accurately–but anyway, he is obviously obtained a body and is walking and speaking and killing, so I consider, for the purposes of our dialogue, yes, he’s alive.”
The top Minister didn’t know what to assert to this, however a power habit of wishing to show up good-informed on any area that came up made him solid around for any details he would take into account of their earlier conversations.
“Is critical Black with–er–He-Who-need to-now not-Be-Named?”
“Black? Black?” said Fudge distractedly, turning his bowler quickly in his fingers. “Sirius Black, you mean? Merlin’s beard, no. Black’s dead. Turns out we were–er–flawed about Black. He used to be harmless in the end. And he wasn’t in league with He-Who-must-not-Be-Named either. I imply,” he introduced defensively, spinning the bowler hat still faster, “all of the proof pointed–we had greater than fifty eyewitnesses–however anyway, as I say, he’s lifeless. Murdered, in fact. On Ministry of Magic premises. There’s going to be an inquiry, in reality…”
To his quality shock, the high Minister felt a fleeting stab of pity for Fudge at this point. It used to be, nonetheless, eclipsed just about instantly by using a glow of smugness on the proposal that, deficient although he himself possibly in the field of materializing out of fireplaces, there had not ever been a murder in any of the federal government departments beneath his cost… Not but, anyway…
At the same time the top Minister surreptitiously touched the wooden of his desk, Fudge endured, “however Blacks by way of-the-via now. The point is, we’re at war, top Minister, and steps have got to be taken.”
“At warfare?” repeated the prime Minister nervously. “obviously that’s a little little bit of an overstatement?”
“He-Who-have got to-no longer-Be-Named has now been joined through these of his followers who broke out of Azkaban in January,” stated Fudge, speaking increasingly rapidly and twirling his bowler so speedy that it was a lime-inexperienced blur. “due to the fact they have got moved into the open, they have got been wreaking havoc. The Brockdale Bridge–he did it, high Minister, he threatened a mass Muggle killing until I stood apart for him and–”
“good grief, so it is your fault these men and women were killed and i am having to reply questions about rusted rigging and corroded expansion joints and i have no idea what else!” said the prime Minister furiously.
“My fault!” said Fudge, coloring up. “Are you pronouncing you would have caved in to blackmail like that?”
“perhaps no longer,” mentioned the prime Minister, standing up and striding concerning the room, “but i’d have put all my efforts into catching the blackmailer before he dedicated this type of atrocity!”
“Do you rather believe I wasn’t already making each effort?” demanded Fudge heatedly. “each Auror within the Ministry used to be–and is–looking for him
and round up his followers, however we occur to be talking about one of the vital robust wizards of all time, a wizard who has eluded seize for almost three many years!”
“So I consider you are going to inform me he caused the storm in the West country too?” stated the prime Minister, his mood rising with each p.C. He took. It was once infuriating to detect the rationale for all these terrible failures and to not be equipped to tell the general public, close to worse than it being the federal government’s fault finally.
“That was no typhoon,” mentioned Fudge miserably.
“Excuse me!” barked the prime Minister, now positively stamping up and down. “bushes uprooted, roofs ripped off, lampposts bent, horrible accidents–”
“It used to be the loss of life Eaters,” stated Fudge. “He-Who-must-no longer-Be-Named’s followers. And… And we suspect massive involvement.”
The prime Minister stopped in his tracks as if he had hit an invisible wall. “What involvement?”
Fudge grimaced. “He used giants last time, when he desired to go for the grand outcomes,” he stated. “The place of work of Misinformation has been working around the clock, we now have had groups of Obliviators out looking to alter the reminiscences of all the Muggles who noticed what rather happened, we’ve got most of the department for the regulation and control of Magical Creatures walking round Somerset, but we can’t in finding the gigantic–it can be been a catastrophe.”
“you do not say!” mentioned the prime Minister furiously.
“I won’t deny that morale is beautiful low at the Ministry,” mentioned Fudge. “What with all that, and then losing Amelia Bones.”
“dropping who?”
“Amelia Bones. Head of the department of Magical law Enforcement. We believe He-Who-have to-not-Be-Named could have murdered her in character, because she was an extraordinarily talented witch and–and all of the evidence used to be that she put up a real battle.”
Fudge cleared his throat and, with an effort, it seemed, stopped spinning his bowler hat.
“but that murder was within the newspapers,” said the prime Minister, momentarily diverted from his anger. “Our newspapers. Amelia Bones… It just stated she used to be a middle-aged woman who lived on my own. It was a–a foul killing, wasn’t it? It is had as an alternative plenty of publicity. The police are baffled, you see.”
Fudge sighed. “good, of direction they are,” he stated. “Killed in a room that used to be locked from the inside, wasn’t she? We, alternatively, comprehend exactly who did it, now not that that will get us any further towards catching him. And then there was once Emmeline Vance, probably you failed to hear about that one–”
“Oh sure I did!” said the top Minister. “It occurred simply around the corner from right here, the truth is. The papers had a discipline day with it, ‘breakdown of legislation and order within the prime Minister’s backyard–‘”
“And as if all that wasn’t enough,” mentioned Fudge, barely paying attention to the top Minister, “we have got dementors swarming far and wide the place, attacking persons left, proper, and center…”
as soon as upon a happier time this sentence would have been unintelligible to the prime Minister, however he used to be wiser now.
“I thought dementors safeguard the prisoners in Azkaban,” he said cautiously.
“They did,” stated Fudge wearily. “but no longer anymore. They’ve abandoned the jail and joined He-Who-need to-no longer-Be-Named. I won’t fake that wasn’t a blow.”
“however,” said the top Minister, with a way of dawning horror, “failed to you tell me they’re the creatures that drain hope and happiness out of people?”
“that’s proper. They usually’re breeding. That is what’s inflicting all this mist.”
The high Minister sank, susceptible-kneed, into the nearest chair. The thought of invisible creatures swooping by way of the towns and countryside, spreading despair and hopelessness in his voters, made him consider particularly faint.
“Now see here, Fudge–you could have obtained to do whatever! It can be your responsibility as Minister of Magic!”
“My pricey prime Minister, you can not honestly suppose i am still Minister of Magic in the end this? I was once sacked three days ago! The entire Wizarding community has been screaming for my resignation for a fortnight. I’ve on no account recognized them so united in my entire term of office!” mentioned Fudge, with a courageous attempt at a smile.
The top Minister was once momentarily lost for words. Regardless of his indignation at the position into which he had been placed, he still rather felt for the shrunken-looking man sitting reverse him.
“i am very sorry,” he mentioned subsequently. “If there’s something i will be able to do?”
“it is very type of you, top Minister, however there is nothing. I was once sent here tonight to convey you up to date on contemporary activities and to introduce you to my successor. I alternatively idea he’d be here via now, but of path, he’s very busy on the second, with so much going on.”
Fudge looked around at the portrait of the unsightly little man wearing the lengthy curly silver wig, who was digging in his ear with the point of a quill. Catching Fudge’s eye, the portrait stated, “He’ll be right here in a moment, he’s simply finishing a letter to Dumbledore.”
“I wish him success,” stated Fudge, sounding bitter for the primary time. “i have been writing to Dumbledore twice a day for the past fortnight, however he won’t budge.
If he’d simply been ready to steer the boy, I might nonetheless be… Good, maybe Scrimgeour will have extra success.”
Fudge subsided into what used to be certainly an aggrieved silence, but it surely used to be broken almost right away by way of the portrait, which immediately spoke in its crisp, official voice.
“To the prime Minister of Muggles. Asking for a meeting. Pressing. Kindly reply immediately. Rufus Scrimgeour, Minister of Magic.”
“yes, sure, pleasant,” stated the high Minister distractedly, and he barely flinched as the flames in the grate grew to become emerald green again, rose up, and revealed a 2nd spinning wizard of their coronary heart, disgorging him moments later onto the antique rug.
Fudge acquired to his toes and, after a moment’s hesitation, the top Minister did the same, gazing the brand new arrival straighten up, dirt down his lengthy black robes, and seem around.
The high Minister’s first, foolish inspiration was once that Rufus Scrimgeour appeared as an alternative like an historic lion. There were streaks of gray in his mane of tawny hair and his bushy eyebrows; he had keen yellowish eyes behind a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles and a specified rangy, loping grace even though he walked with a mild limp. There used to be an instant impression of shrewdness and sturdiness; the high Minister thought he understood why the Wizarding neighborhood preferred Scrimgeour to Fudge as a leader in these harmful occasions.
“How do you do?” said the prime Minister in a well mannered way, preserving out his hand.
Scrimgeour grasped it briefly, his eyes scanning the room, then pulled out a wand from under his robes.
“Fudge instructed you the whole thing?” he requested, striding over to the door and tapping the keyhole together with his wand. The high Minister heard the lock click on.
“Er–sure,” stated the top Minister. “And if you happen to do not intellect, i’d alternatively that door remained unlocked.”
“i might as an alternative not be interrupted,” said Scrimgeour shortly, “or watched,” he delivered, pointing his wand on the windows, so that the curtains swept throughout them. “right, well, i’m a busy man, so let’s get down lo industry. To start with, we must speak about your security.”
The prime Minister drew himself up to his fullest top and replied, “i’m perfectly completely satisfied with the safety I’ve already received, thanks very–”
“well, we’re no longer,” Scrimgeour reduce in. “it’ll be a poor lookout for the Muggles if their top Minister gets put below the Imperius Curse. The brand new secretary for your outer place of work–”
“i am no longer eliminating Kingsley Shacklebolt, if that’s what you’re suggesting!” mentioned the high Minister hotly. “he is extremely efficient, will get through twice the work the relaxation of them–”
“that’s because he is a wizard,” said Scrimgeour, without a flicker of a smile. “A totally trained Auror, who has been assigned to you for your safeguard.”
“Now, wait a moment!” declared the prime Minister. “You cannot just put your men and women into my office, I come to a decision who works for me–”
“I proposal you have been joyful with Shacklebolt?” mentioned Scrimgeour coldly.
“i am–that’s to claim, I was once–”