‘This isn't a coincidence,’ he said, his hands forming fists. ‘She knows.’

‘This isn't a coincidence,’ he said, his hands forming fists. ‘She knows.’

‘She can't,’ said Ron at once.

‘There were people listening in that pub. And let's face it, we don't know how many of the people who turned up we can trust ... any of them could have run off and told Umbridge ...’

And he had thought they believed him, thought they even admired him ...

‘Zacharias Smith!’ said Ron at once, punching a fist into his hand. ‘Or—I thought that Michael Corner had a really shifty look, too—’

‘I wonder if Hermione's seen this yet?’ Harry said, looking round at the door to the girls’ dormitories.

‘Let's go and tell her,’ said Ron. He bounded forwards, pulled open the door and set off up the spiral staircase.

He was on the sixth stair when there was a loud, wailing, klaxon-like sound and the steps melted together to make a long, smooth stone slide like a helter-skelter. There was a brief moment when Ron tried to keep running, arms working madly like windmills, then he toppled over backwards and shot down the newly created slide, coming to rest on his back at Harry's feet.

‘Er—I don't think we're allowed in the girls’ dormitories,’ said Harry, pulling Ron to his feet and trying not to laugh.

Two fourth-year girls came zooming gleefully down the stone slide.

‘Oooh. who tried to get upstairs?’ they giggled happily, leaping to their feet and ogling Harry and Ron.

‘Me,’ said Ron, who was still rather dishevelled. ‘I didn't realise that would happen. It's not fair!’ he added to Harry, as the girls headed off for the portrait hole, still giggling madly. ‘Hermione's allowed in our dormitory, how come we're not allowed —?’

‘Well, it's an old-fashioned rule,’ said Hermione, who had just slid neatly on to a rug in front of them and was now getting to her feet, ‘but it says in Hogwarts: A History, that the founders thought boys were less trustworthy than girls. Anyway, why were you trying to get in there?’

‘To see you—look at this!’ said Ron, dragging her over to the noticeboard.

Hermione's eyes slid rapidly down the notice. Her expression became stony.

‘Someone must have blabbed to her!’ Ron said angrily.

‘They can't have done,’ said Hermione in a low voice.

‘You're so naive,’ said Ron, ‘you think just because you're all honourable and trustworthy —’

‘No, they can't have done, because I put a jinx on that piece of parchment we all signed,’ said Hermione grimly. ‘Believe me, if anyone's run off and told Umbridge, we'll know exactly who they are and they will really regret it.’

‘What'll happen to them?’ said Ron eagerly.

‘Well, put it this way,’ said Hermione, ‘it'll make Eloise Midgeon's acne look like a couple of cute freckles. Come on, let's get down to breakfast and see what the others think ... I wonder whether this has been put up in all the houses?’

It was immediately apparent on entering the Great Hall that Umbridge's sign had not only appeared in Gryffindor Tower. There was a peculiar intensity about the chatter and an extra measure of movement in the Hall as people scurried up and down their tables conferring on what they had read. Harry, Ron and Hermione had barely taken their seats when Neville, Dean, Fred, George and Ginny descended upon them.

‘Did you see it?’

‘D'you reckon she knows?’

‘What are we going to do?’

They were all looking at Harry. He glanced around to make sure there were no teachers near them.

‘We're going to do it anyway, of course,’ he said quietly.

‘Knew you'd say that,’ said George, beaming and thumping Harry on the arm.

‘The prefects as well?’ said Fred, looking quizzically at Ron and Hermione.

‘Of course,’ said Hermione coolly.

‘Here come Ernie and Hannah Abbott,’ said Ron, looking over his shoulder. ‘And those Ravenclaw blokes and Smith ... and no one looks very spotty.’

Hermione looked alarmed.

‘Never mind spots, the idiots can't come over here now, it'll look really suspicious—sit down!’ she mouthed to Ernie and Hannah, gesturing frantically to them to rejoin the Hufflepuff table. ‘Later! We'll—talk—to—you—later!’

‘I'll tell Michael,’ said Ginny impatiently, swinging herself off her bench, ‘the fool, honestly ...’

She hurried off towards the Ravenclaw table; Harry watched her go. Cho was sitting not far away, talking to the curly-haired friend she had brought along to the Hog's Head. Would Umbridge's notice scare her off meeting them again?

But the full repercussions of the sign were not felt until they were leaving the Great Hall for History of Magic.

‘Harry! Ron!’

It was Angelina and she was hurrying towards them looking perfectly desperate.

‘It's OK,’ said Harry quietly, when she was near enough to hear him. ‘We're still going to—’

‘You realise she's including Quidditch in this?’ Angelina said over him. ‘We have to go and ask permission to re-form the Gryffindor team!’

‘What?’ said Harry.

‘No way,’ said Ron, appalled.

‘You read the sign, it mentions teams too! So listen, Harry ... I am saying this for the last time ... please, please don't lose your temper with Umbridge again or she might not let us play any more!’

‘OK, OK,’ said Harry, for Angelina looked as though she was on the verge of tears. ‘Don't worry, I'll behave myself ...’

‘Bet Umbridge is in History of Magic,’ said Ron grimly, as they set off for Binns's lesson. ‘She hasn't inspected Binns yet ... bet you anything she's there ...’

But he was wrong; the only teacher present when they entered was Professor Binns, floating an inch or so above his chair as usual and preparing to continue his monotonous drone on giant wars. Harry did not even attempt to follow what he was saying today; he doodled idly on his parchment ignoring Hermione's frequent glares and nudges, until a particularly painful poke in the ribs made him look up angrily.

‘What?’

‘But it would've shown confidence in him.

‘But it would've shown confidence in him. It's what I'd've done,’ persisted Kingsley, ’ ‘specially with the Daily Prophet having a go at him every few days....’

Harry did not look round; he did not want Lupin or Kingsley to know he had heard. Though not remotely hungry, he followed Mundungus back towards the table. His pleasure in the party had evaporated as quickly as it had come; he wished he were upstairs in bed.

Mad-Eye Moody was sniffing at a chicken leg with what remained of his nose; evidently he could not detect any trace of poison, because he then tore a strip off it with his teeth.

‘...the handle's made of Spanish oak with anti-jinx varnish and in-built vibration control—’ Ron was saying to Tonks.

Mrs. Weasley yawned widely.

‘Well, I think I'll sort out that boggart before I turn in.... Arthur, I don't want this lot up too late, all right? ‘Night, Harry, dear.’

She left the kitchen. Harry set down his plate and wondered whether he could follow her without attracting attention.

‘You all right, Potter?’ grunted Moody.

‘Yeah, fine,’ lied Harry.

Moody took a swig from his hipflask, his electric-blue eye staring sideways at Harry.

‘Come here, I've got something that might interest you,’ he said.

From an inner pocket of his robes Moody pulled a very tattered old wizarding photograph.

‘Original Order of the Phoenix,’ growled Moody. ‘Found it last night when I was looking for my spare Invisibility Cloak, seeing as Podmore hasn't had the manners to return my best one.... Thought people might like to see it.’

Harry took the photograph. A small crowd of people, some waving at him, others lifting their glasses, looked back up at him.

‘There's me,’ said Moody, unnecessarily pointing at himself. The Moody in the picture was unmistakeable, though his hair was slightly less grey and his nose was intact. ‘And there's Dumbledore beside me, Dedalus Diggle on the other side... That's Marlene McKinnon, she was killed two weeks after this was taken, they got her whole family. That's Frank and Alice Longbottom—’

Harry's stomach, already uncomfortable, clenched as he looked at Alice Longbottom; he knew her round, friendly face very well, even though he had never met her, because she was the image of her son, Neville.

‘Poor devils,’ growled Moody. ‘Better dead than what happened to them ... and that's Emmeline Vance, you've met her, and that there's Lupin, obviously ... Benjy Fenwick, he copped it too, we only ever found bits of him ... shift aside there,’ he added, poking the picture, and the little photographic people edged sideways, so that those who were partially obscured could move to the front.

‘That's Edgar Bones ... brother of Amelia Bones, they got him and his family, too, he was a great wizard ... Sturgis Podmore, blimey, he looks young ... Caradoc Dearborn, vanished six months after this, we never found his body ... Hagrid, of course, looks exactly the same as ever ... Elphias Doge, you've met him, I'd forgotten he used to wear that stupid hat ... Gideon Prewett, it took five Death Eaters to kill him and his brother Fabian, they fought like heroes ... budge along, budge along ...’

I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some

I think Dumbledore might have hoped I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends,’ said Lupin. ‘I need scarcely say that I failed dismally.’

Harry's mood suddenly lifted. His father had not been a prefect either. All at once the party seemed much more enjoyable; he loaded up his plate, feeling doubly fond of everyone in the room.

Ron was rhapsodising about his new broom to anybody who would listen.

‘...nought to seventy in ten seconds, not bad, is it? When you think the Comet Two Ninety's only nought to sixty and that's with a decent tailwind according to Which Broomstick?’

Hermione was talking very earnestly to Lupin about her view of elf rights.

‘I mean, it's the same kind of nonsense as werewolf segregation, isn't it? It all stems from this horrible thing wizards have of thinking they're superior to other creatures....’

Mrs. Weasley and Bill were having their usual argument about Bill's hair.

‘...getting really out of hand, and you're so good-looking, it would look much better shorter, wouldn't it, Harry?’

‘Oh—I dunno—’ said Harry, slightly alarmed at being asked his opinion; he slid away from them in the direction of Fred and George, who were huddled in a corner with Mundungus.

Mundungus stopped talking when he saw Harry, but Fred winked and beckoned Harry closer.

‘It's OK,’ he told Mundungus, ‘we can trust Harry, he's our financial backer.’

‘Look what Dung's got us,’ said George, holding out his hand to Harry. It was full of what looked like shrivelled black pods. A faint rattling noise was coming from them, even though they were completely stationary.

‘Venomous Tentacula seeds,’ said George. ‘We need them for the Skiving Snackboxes but they're a Class C Non-Tradeable Substance so we've been having a bit of trouble getting hold of them.’

‘Ten Galleons the lot, then, Dung?’ said Fred.

‘Wiv all the trouble I went to to get ‘em?’ said Mundungus, his saggy, bloodshot eyes stretching even wider. ‘I'm sorry, lads, but I'm not taking a Knut under twenty.’

‘Dung likes his little joke,’ Fred said to Harry.

‘Yeah, his best one so far has been six Sickles for a bag of Knarl quills,’ said George.

‘Be careful,’ Harry warned them quietly.

‘What?’ said Fred. ‘Mum's busy cooing over Prefect Ron, we're okay.’

‘But Moody could have his eye on you,’ Harry pointed out.

Mundungus looked nervously over his shoulder.

‘Good point, that,’ he grunted. ‘All right, lads, ten it is, if you'll take ‘em quick.’

‘Cheers, Harry!’ said Fred delightedly, when Mundungus had emptied his pockets into the twins’ outstretched hands and scuttled off towards the food. ‘We'd better get these upstairs....’

Harry watched them go, feeling slightly uneasy. It had just occurred to him that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley would want to know how Fred and George were financing their joke shop business when, as was inevitable, they finally found out about it. Giving the twins his Triwizard winnings had seemed a simple thing to do at the time, but what if it led to another family row and a Percy-like estrangement? Would Mrs. Weasley still feel that Harry was as good as her son if she found out he had made it possible for Fred and George to start a career she thought quite unsuitable?

Standing where the twins had left him, with nothing but a guilty weight in the pit of his stomach for company, Harry caught the sound of his own name. Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice was audible even over the surrounding chatter.

‘...why Dumbledore didn't make Potter a prefect?’ said Kingsley.

‘He'll have had his reasons,’ replied Lupin.

Fred rolled his eyes.

Fred rolled his eyes.

Sirius, Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt were already there and Mad-Eye Moody stumped in shortly after Harry had got himself a Butterbeer.

‘Oh, Alastor, I am glad you're here,’ said Mrs. Weasley brightly, as Mad-Eye shrugged off his travelling cloak. ‘We've been wanting to ask you for ages—could you have a look in the writing desk in the drawing room and tell us what's inside it? We haven't wanted to open it just in case it's something really nasty.’

‘No problem, Molly...’

Moody's electric-blue eye swivelled upwards and stared fixedly through the ceiling of the kitchen.

‘Drawing room...’ he growled, as the pupil contracted. ‘Desk in the corner? Yeah, I see it.... Yeah, it's a boggart.... Want me to go up and get rid of it, Molly?’

‘No, no, I'll do it myself later,’ beamed Mrs. Weasley, ‘you have your drink. We're having a little bit of a celebration, actually....’ She gestured at the scarlet banner. ‘Fourth prefect in the family!’ she said fondly, ruffling Ron's hair.

‘Prefect, eh?’ growled Moody, his normal eye on Ron and his magical eye swivelling around to gaze into the side of his head. Harry had the very uncomfortable feeling it was looking at him and moved away towards Sirius and Lupin.

‘Well, congratulations,’ said Moody, still glaring at Ron with his normal eye, ‘authority figures always attract trouble, but I suppose Dumbledore thinks you can withstand most major jinxes or he wouldn't have appointed you....’

Ron looked rather startled at this view of the matter but was saved the trouble of responding by the arrival of his father and eldest brother. Mrs. Weasley was in such a good mood she did not even complain that they had brought Mundungus with them; he was wearing a long overcoat that seemed oddly lumpy in unlikely places and declined the offer to remove it and put it with Moody's travelling cloak.

‘Well, I think a toast is in order,’ said Mr. Weasley, when everyone had a drink. He raised his goblet. ‘To Ron and Hermione, the new Gryffindor prefects!’

Ron and Hermione beamed as everyone drank to them, and then applauded.

‘I was never a prefect myself,’ said Tonks brightly from behind Harry as everybody moved towards the table to help themselves to food. Her hair was tomato red and waist-length today; she looked like Ginny's older sister. ‘My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities.’

‘Like what?’ said Ginny, who was choosing a baked potato.

‘Like the ability to behave myself,’ said Tonks.

Ginny laughed; Hermione looked as though she did not know whether to smile or not and compromised by taking an extra large gulp of Butterbeer and choking on it.

‘What about you, Sirius?’ Ginny asked, thumping Hermione on the back.

Sirius, who was right beside Harry, let out his usual bark-like laugh.

‘No one would have made me a prefect, I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge.’

I'm better at Quidditch, said the voice. But I'm not better at anything else.

I'm better at Quidditch, said the voice. But I'm not better at anything else.

That was definitely true, Harry thought; he was no better than Ron in lessons. But what about outside lessons? What about those adventures he, Ron, and Hermione had had together since starting at Hogwarts, often risking much worse than expulsion?

Well, Ron and Hermione were with me most of the time, said the voice in Harry's head.

Not all the time, though, Harry argued with himself. They didn't fight Quirrell with me. They didn't take on Riddle and the Basilisk. They didn't get rid of all those dementors the night Sirius escaped. They weren't in that graveyard with me, the night Voldemort returned....

And the same feeling of ill-usage that had overwhelmed him on the night he had arrived rose again. I've definitely done more, Harry thought indignantly. I've done more than either of them!

But maybe, said the small voice fairly, maybe Dumbledore doesn't choose prefects because they've got themselves into a load of dangerous situations.... Maybe he chooses them for other reasons.... Ron must have something you don't....

Harry opened his eyes and stared through his fingers at the wardrobe's clawed feet, remembering what Fred had said.

‘No one in their right mind would make Ron a prefect....’

Harry gave a small snort of laughter. A second later he felt sickened with himself.

Ron had not asked Dumbledore to give him the prefect badge. This was not Ron's fault. Was he, Harry, Ron's best friend in the world, going to sulk because he didn't have a badge, laugh with the twins behind Ron's back, ruin this for Ron when, for the first time, he had beaten Harry at something?

At this point Harry heard Ron's footsteps on the stairs again. He stood up, straightened his glasses, and hitched a grin on to his face as Ron bounded back through the door.

‘Just caught her!’ he said happily. ‘She says she'll get the Cleansweep if she can.’

‘Cool,’ Harry said, and he was relieved to hear that his voice had stopped sounding hearty. ‘Listen—Ron—well done, mate.’

The smile faded off Ron's face.

‘I never thought it would be me!’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I thought it would be you!’

‘Nah, I've caused too much trouble,’ Harry said, echoing Fred.

‘Yeah,’ said Ron, ‘yeah, I suppose.... Well, we'd better get our trunks packed, hadn't we?’

It was odd how widely their possessions seemed to have scattered themselves since they had arrived. It took them most of the afternoon to retrieve their books and belongings from all over the house and stow them back inside their school trunks. Marry noticed that Ron kept moving his prefect's badge around, first placing it on his bedside table, then putting it into his jeans pocket, then taking it out and lying it on his folded robes, as though to see the effect of the red on the black. Only when Fred and George dropped in and offered to attach it to his forehead with a Permanent Sticking Charm did he wrap it tenderly in his maroon socks and lock it in his trunk.

Mrs. Weasley returned from Diagon Alley around six o'clock, laden with books and carrying a long package wrapped in thick brown paper that Ron took from her with a moan of longing.

‘Never mind unwrapping it now, people are arriving for dinner, I want you all downstairs,’ she said, but the moment she was out of sight Ron ripped off the paper in a frenzy and examined every inch of his new broom, an ecstatic expression on his face.

Down in the basement Mrs. Weasley had hung a scarlet banner over the heavily laden dinner table, which read CONGRATULATIONS RON AND HERMIONE—NEW PREFECTS. She looked in a better mood than Harry had seen her all holiday.

‘I thought we'd have a little party not a sit-down dinner,’ she told Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, George, and Ginny as they entered the room. ‘Your father and Bill are on their way, Ron. I've sent them both owls and they're thrilled,’ she added, beaming.

‘Look at today!’ groaned Ron

. ‘History of Magic, double Potions, Divination and double Defence Against the Dark Arts ... Binns, Snape, Trelawney and that Umbridge woman all in one day! I wish Fred and George'd hurry up

and get those Skiving Snackboxes sorted ...’

‘Do mine ears deceive me?’ said Fred, arriving with George and squeezing on to the bench beside Harry. ‘Hogwarts prefects surely don't wish to skive off lessons?’

‘Look what we've got today,’ said Ron grumpily, shoving his timetable under Fred's nose. ‘That's the worst Monday I've ever seen.’

‘Fair point, little bro,’ said Fred, scanning the column. ‘You can have a bit of Nosebleed Nougat cheap if you like.’

‘Why's it cheap?’ said Ron suspiciously.

‘Because you'll keep bleeding till you shrivel up, we haven't got an antidote yet,’ said George, helping himself to a kipper.

‘Cheers,’ said Ron moodily, pocketing his timetable, ‘but I think I'll take the lessons.’

‘And speaking of your Skiving Snackboxes,’ said Hermione, eyeing Fred and George beadily, ‘you can't advertise for testers on the Gryffindor noticeboard.’

‘Says who?’ said George, looking astonished.

‘Says me,’ said Hermione. ‘And Ron.’

‘Leave me out of it,’ said Ron hastily.

Hermione glared at him. Fred and George sniggered.

‘You'll be singing a different tune soon enough, Hermione,’ said Fred, thickly buttering a crumpet. ‘You're starting your fifth year, you'll be begging us for a Snackbox before long.’

‘And why would starting fifth year mean I want a Skiving Snackbox?’ asked Hermione.

‘Fifth year's OWL year,’ said George.

‘So?’

‘So you've got your exams coming up, haven't you? They'll be keeping your noses so hard to that grindstone they'll be rubbed raw,’ said Fred with satisfaction.

‘Half our year had minor breakdowns coming up to OWLs,’ said George happily. ‘Tears and tantrums ... Patricia Stimpson kept coming over faint ...’

‘Kenneth Towler came out in boils, d'you remember?’ said Fred remmiscently.

‘That's ‘cause you put Bulbadox powder in his pyjamas,’ said George.

‘Oh yeah,’ said Fred, grinning. ‘I'd forgotten ... hard to keep track sometimes, isn't it?’

‘Anyway, it's a nightmare of a year, the fifth,’ said George. ‘If you care about exam results, anyway. Fred and I managed to keep our peckers up somehow.’

‘Yeah ... you got, what was it, three OWLs each?’ said Ron.

‘Yep,’ said Fred unconcernedly. ‘But we feel our futures lie outside the world of academic achievement.’

‘We seriously debated whether we were going to bother coming back for our seventh year,’ said George brightly, ‘now that we've got—’

He broke off at a warning look from Harry, who knew George had been about to mention the Triwizard winnings he had given them.

‘—now that we've got our OWLs,’ George said hastily. ‘I mean, do we really need NEWTs? But we didn't think Mum could take us leaving school early not on top of Percy turning out to be the world's biggest prat.’

‘We're not going to waste our last year here, though,’ said Fred, looking affectionately around at the Great Hall. ‘We're going to use it to do a bit of market research, find out exactly what the average Hogwarts student requires

from a joke shop, carefully evaluate the results of our research, then produce products to fit the demand.’

‘But where are you going to get the gold to start a joke shop?’ Hermione asked sceptically. ‘You're going to need all the ingredients and materials—and premises too, I suppose ...’
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How We Can Achieve the Best Social Progress in Developing Countries

Author：佚名 Source：none Hits：125 UpdateTime：2008-10-19 1:33:36


Technological innovations and advances: Because capitalists’ control how technology is used, many of the computer’s potential gains are not realized. Capitalists enhance this conflict that may lead to social revolutions because human development is rendered. This is an adoption regarding the views on computers that Karl Marx may have held.

In order to fully innovate and advance developing nations technology, the governments must regulate and work with global corporations to spread the technology. We cannot rely on the business owners themselves spreading this technology to the third world. The governments must do this.

The distribution of wealth in developing nations is lob sided. There are few elite people and the rest are either working middle class or poor, depending on the nation. What can we do to shrink the wealth gap? The government should regulate the corporations and companies that the elite own, and redistribute some of that wealth into economic and business incentives for the poor and middle class. Furthermore, there are many countries were a few elite land owners control a vast amount of land and have “sharecroppers” working for them for unbelievably low wages. The government must step in and split up the land among the various sharecroppers so that they too can own some of the land. Opponents might say this is unfair to the elite, but these people are rich and still would be rich if the land were to be redistributed. They would still have a lot of land, but the middle class would gain a lot more than the elite would lose.

For health care, Canada and Switzerland have the best health care system and they are socialized. All Canadian and Switzerland citizens are covered medically. These examples show how structuralism leads to better health services. Education is basically governmentally regulated in the United States and elsewhere. The U.S. has a very high literacy rate thanks to this regulation. In countries where education is not regulated, such as some poor African countries, the literacy rates are extremely low. You cannot just rely on the market to create schools and educational programs. The government must do this to have an educated and successful people.

While I personally may not believe in all of these viewpoints, I believe that incorporation of some of these ideas may truly help developing countries.