A
1. family
2. complaint
3. violent
4. mad
5. lullaby
B
6. fridge
7. spotlight
8. dreams
9. swear
10. life
but you see, it's not me
it's not my family
The Cranberries, "Zombie"
"—that we have on Professor Pavel Markovic, associate professor of Slavic Studies at University of Cambridge, to discuss the latest news coming out of Sarajevo. Professor Markovic recently published an op-ed in the Times arguing that—"
Harry clapped a hand to his forehead when a ripple of pain flickered through his scar. The pains had come, on and off, over the past few days. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the car window.
"—exactly, Margaret, and what we saw with the Vrbanja Bridge was just one example of the lengths to which the Serbs will go. The human rights abuses that have_"
Petunia sighed heavily, and changed the station. Tinny pop music poured into the car like sticky syrup.
"Where exactly is Sarajevo, again?" asked Harry idly, from the back seat.
"Don't they teach you anything in that school?!" scolded Petunia. "How they ever passed the OFSTED, I won't guess."
Harry was certain that Hogwarts was not inspected by OFSTED, but he thought it best not to bring that up. The car bumped over a speed hump, and Petunia flicked at her turn signal like it was a gnat. He slumped back against the neck rest and closed his eyes again. The smell of melting rubbish wafted in through the driver's seat's open window. The Dursleys' air conditioning was not working again (probably because of chewing gum lodged in the air vents by Dudley), and the car was hot like a convection oven. Harry imagined his buttocks roasting into little cinnamon buns, and almost laughed out loud, when his scar twinged again.
"The old Yugoslavia," said Petunia, at last. "Not that you would know anything about that." She glanced at the rearview mirror, and Harry noticed clumps of mascara dangling from her eyelashes.
"Not that much," he said, truthfully. He wiped sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Don't open that window," Petunia continued. "The crank's broken. It can't be closed."
"Okay."
Harry knew she had changed lanes when the turn signal stopped clicking. His eyelids were heavy. He and Ron had played cards until four in the morning and woken up three hours later for the train. The music drifted over him. When the weather's fine, you've got women, you've got—
"When you get home, put all your clothes in the laundry room at once," said Petunia.
—women on your mind.
She checked for his assent in the rearview mirror, but Harry did not nod, for he was already back in the graveyard, the seatbelt a rope lashing him to a slab of dark granite.