4.
"...And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!"
Dumbledore closed the thick leatherbound volume.
"Wow," Harry said.
"You hadn't heard that,Harry?"
"I don't think I'll ever forget it now. Could I...borrow it?"
"Certainly," Dumbledore said. He handed the book to Harry. "Be
careful with it,please."
"I'll be very careful," Harry said. He opened the book to the
first page. Someone had written in the book. He frowned for a
second and then he realized-
"This is Edgar Allan Poe's AUTOGRAPH."
Dumbledore chuckled. He studied the group over his half-moon glasses.
There were ten people sitting in the pumpkin patch now,around the
fire. There was room for more. There was Dumbledore himself; Minerva
sat on his left,then Harry,Madame Hooch,Severus,the Creevey brothers
forming the curve,then Alastor,Hagrid and Sprout. All of them were
as sincere as could be.
"I find Poe quite essential," Madame Hooch said.
Dumbledore nodded. "Particularly tonight."
"He wrote all that while he was drunk," Alastor said.
"He did?" Colin asked.
"It was the only way he could write,laddie. I prefer 'The Tell-Tale
Heart' meself."
"What's that one about?" Hagrid asked.
"It's about a man who's driven insane by guilt," Snape said,
staring into the fire. "No. Wait. He's already insane. Hagrid,it's
about a man who's...mentally troubled. There's an old man...Poe
never makes their relationship clear-"
"He kills the old man," Sprout explained.
Snape nodded. Then he noticed how close Hagrid and Sprout were. In
fact,they were holding hands. Hagrid and Sprout? How many laws of
physics did that break?
"He upends the bed onto the old man," Moody said,"And then he
dismembers the corpse in the tub and puts all the bits and pieces under a floorboard. Poe never said if he used an axe,but how else would ya do it in those days? Then some policemen come to visit
him and he goes completely unhinged,convinced they know what he did.
In the end,he rips up the floorboards,shrieking-" Professor Moody
cleared his throat; he spoke the next words as if he were a famous
actor onstage; "Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!--tear up the planks! here, here!--It is the beating of his hideous heart!"
"Very dramatic," Hagrid said.
"Thanks," said Moody.
"I could have brought some more stories. I wish I'd brought some
Robert Bloch or Ramsey Campbell. Or even some Joe R. Lansdale.
'Night They Missed The Horror Show' is one of the best short
stories I've ever read. Perfect for tonight."
"What time is it?" Dennis asked.
Dumbledore consulted his watch. "Nearly midnight,Dennis."
"The witching hour," Minerva said,with a sly grin.
"How long will we be out here?"
"All night," Snape said. "Linus's sister had to go out at three in
the morning and remove him from the pumpkin patch. So shall we sit
here in honor of his sincerity."
"Feelin' sleepy,Dennis?" Hagrid asked.
"Not right now."
"We're keeping each other awake," Sprout laughed.
"Read another story,Albus."
Agreement rang around the fire.
"All right...how about Charlee Jacob? I brought one of her short
fiction collections with me. There's a story in here called 'Apodomania' that I'd read if I wasn't worried it would traumatize
you all for the rest of your lives."
"I don't know,Albus," Madame Hooch said,"That's an incitement to
read it. For me,at least."
"I'll read 'The Moon's Carnival.' It's about a witch." He glanced at Harry,and Harry knew this story was for him.
Dumbledore opened the book and began to read; the fire swept his words into the night.
"...And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the
floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted- nevermore!"
Dumbledore closed the thick leatherbound volume.
"Wow," Harry said.
"You hadn't heard that,Harry?"
"I don't think I'll ever forget it now. Could I...borrow it?"
"Certainly," Dumbledore said. He handed the book to Harry. "Be
careful with it,please."
"I'll be very careful," Harry said. He opened the book to the
first page. Someone had written in the book. He frowned for a
second and then he realized-
"This is Edgar Allan Poe's AUTOGRAPH."
Dumbledore chuckled. He studied the group over his half-moon glasses.
There were ten people sitting in the pumpkin patch now,around the
fire. There was room for more. There was Dumbledore himself; Minerva
sat on his left,then Harry,Madame Hooch,Severus,the Creevey brothers
forming the curve,then Alastor,Hagrid and Sprout. All of them were
as sincere as could be.
"I find Poe quite essential," Madame Hooch said.
Dumbledore nodded. "Particularly tonight."
"He wrote all that while he was drunk," Alastor said.
"He did?" Colin asked.
"It was the only way he could write,laddie. I prefer 'The Tell-Tale
Heart' meself."
"What's that one about?" Hagrid asked.
"It's about a man who's driven insane by guilt," Snape said,
staring into the fire. "No. Wait. He's already insane. Hagrid,it's
about a man who's...mentally troubled. There's an old man...Poe
never makes their relationship clear-"
"He kills the old man," Sprout explained.
Snape nodded. Then he noticed how close Hagrid and Sprout were. In
fact,they were holding hands. Hagrid and Sprout? How many laws of
physics did that break?
"He upends the bed onto the old man," Moody said,"And then he
dismembers the corpse in the tub and puts all the bits and pieces under a floorboard. Poe never said if he used an axe,but how else would ya do it in those days? Then some policemen come to visit
him and he goes completely unhinged,convinced they know what he did.
In the end,he rips up the floorboards,shrieking-" Professor Moody
cleared his throat; he spoke the next words as if he were a famous
actor onstage; "Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!--tear up the planks! here, here!--It is the beating of his hideous heart!"
"Very dramatic," Hagrid said.
"Thanks," said Moody.
"I could have brought some more stories. I wish I'd brought some
Robert Bloch or Ramsey Campbell. Or even some Joe R. Lansdale.
'Night They Missed The Horror Show' is one of the best short
stories I've ever read. Perfect for tonight."
"What time is it?" Dennis asked.
Dumbledore consulted his watch. "Nearly midnight,Dennis."
"The witching hour," Minerva said,with a sly grin.
"How long will we be out here?"
"All night," Snape said. "Linus's sister had to go out at three in
the morning and remove him from the pumpkin patch. So shall we sit
here in honor of his sincerity."
"Feelin' sleepy,Dennis?" Hagrid asked.
"Not right now."
"We're keeping each other awake," Sprout laughed.
"Read another story,Albus."
Agreement rang around the fire.
"All right...how about Charlee Jacob? I brought one of her short
fiction collections with me. There's a story in here called 'Apodomania' that I'd read if I wasn't worried it would traumatize
you all for the rest of your lives."
"I don't know,Albus," Madame Hooch said,"That's an incitement to
read it. For me,at least."
"I'll read 'The Moon's Carnival.' It's about a witch." He glanced at Harry,and Harry knew this story was for him.
Dumbledore opened the book and began to read; the fire swept his words into the night.