e-book I Can Hear The Bells

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The atmosphere was fantastic and everyone was really up for a great time. Over the weekend I was booked to entertain at a very special birthday party in Wigan, my usual stint at Bolton FC and then on to a joint 18th birthday party in St Anne's. I finished the weekend with a lovely wedding at Owen House in Cheshire for Rob and Gemma followed my performing at Francos in Longridge. I cannot believe we are heading into October and I can now just about hear the Christmas bells starting to ring in the distance.

If you haven't yet booked entertainment for Christmas and are looking for something unique and exciting then a Close-Up Magician may be the perfect solution for your event, but hurry as dates are going pretty fast! Finally, I am in the final stages of creating my new Video Vault that will be a page dedicated on my website with performance clips and many funny, strange and ridiculous stories from my performances so far. Be sure to keep an eye on the blogs to be the first to know when this page is launched.

Now i know what life's about. And love's knocked me out and. My head is spinning. Something's beginning. Everybody says. That a girl who looks like me. Can't win his love. Well just wait and see 'cause. Just hear them chiming. My temperature's climbing. I can't contain my joy. I've been missin'. Round one. He'll ask me on a date and then. Round two. I'll primp but won't late because. Round three's.

When we kiss inside his car. Won't go all the way. But i'll go pretty far. And then. Round four. He'll ask me for my hand and then. Round five. We'll book the wedding band so by. Round six. Amber much to your surprise. Peeking at her notebook, he was glad to see she got the answer right. After they finished studying math, Lily took a nap. She immediately passed out on the sofa, limbs askew just like how Albus used to sleep when he was younger. It won't be long before Lily followed Al in his magical studies.

How long should they keep this up? That was why, later that evening when Sirius had gone to his night shift at the pub, Harry floo-called Bellatrix from the living room. Her high-pitched voice picked up before her face came through, body-less and surrounded by licks of green flames, "Yes, Bellatrix Black speaking. Her attention darted elsewhere, "Draco! Not that tie, nephikins, it looks disgusting. Now, where was I? Harry cleared his throat, adopting his best professional tone.

Bellatrix, this is Harry Potter. From Tonk- err, Nymphadora's wedding? You wished to speak to me about your upcoming wedding. That is, if you're still searching for a wedding planner. Harry nearly choked, his mind already calculating the numbers. This woman believed his acceptable hourly rate was ten galleons.

If he was going to be meeting Bellatrix for, say, three hours a day, Harry would be earning thirty per session. Holy shit, he was going to earn a hundred and twenty a week, so in three months until D-Day - the actual wedding - he would receive nearly a thousand and four hundred galleons. Harry felt like he was going to vomit. That number never crossed his life, ever.

At least, not in galleons. Err, I don't work on Fridays to Sundays. It would make your wedding day even more special to know you both planned it together. She hummed, thinking it over. No sooner had the floo-call ended, Harry was jumping and whooping in the air. He crossed into the kitchen where his children were helping themselves to leftovers for dinner. Got a new client?

"I Can Hear The Bells" Lyrics

Albus stood up so abruptly the dining table rattled. Lily screamed when his glass of milk nearly spilled on her dinner. I meant, yes - I meant. Ugh, dad ,'' he groaned when he caught Harry's cheeky smile. Harry chuckled and went over to plant a fond kiss on her cheek, "Even better - we'll make it a ballerina dinosaur race car bed.

At the sound of his children's delighted laughter, landing this client was the best decision Harry ever made. His daughter scrambled into the perfectly Lily-sized hole in the wall Sirius should have patched up last weekend. Harry had no idea how Lily found that locket.

It was octagon-shaped, had an S-curve design, and a silver chain. His breath had hitched at the sight of it. Old memories sparked across his mind, lighting up long-closed doors before he quickly put it out to chase after a squealing five-year-old who seemed hellbent on becoming a Niffler. Until now the necklace was kept in the attic, collecting dust in one of the old moving boxes.

She probably had been playing around upstairs again, tormenting that wrinkly, rude elf Kreacher who loved to hole himself up in the attic.

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Lily giggled and crawled out of the hole, cobwebs catching on her bright pumpkin hair. Harry carried her in one of his arms and took the necklace from her hands.

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It felt warm - and mostly wet - to the touch, and he stomped down the odd, familiar feeling of right whenever he was near the trinket. For now he needed to make Lily presentable for her play date with Hugo before he met up with Bellatrix later. Sirius had gone to Moonshine for his shift and Albus was with Luna for charms lessons. The streets transitioned into the next district, the fairly new and shiny Zontic Alley.

Unless a halfblood or muggle born had a purse as big as the heads of the egoistic lot, they had no chance of purchasing anything from there. Not that Harry cared really. Everything was priced starting from the high galleons. He and his wallet preferred Diagon Alley any day. The Claridge Inn - not to be mistaken as the Magical Britain equivalent for the muggle hotel with a similar name - was decked out in a Venetian Gothic style. It was a blend of tasteful, classic period features and modern designs.

It had high ceilings, opulent chandeliers, and the walls were made of mahogany, with pillars that were connected with finely crafted arches. There were rich, dark wood furniture, and live music being played from a beautiful grand piano situated in the lobby. Elves expertly moved around the place without being a hindrance, there when needed but otherwise invisible. One of the elves approached him with a silver tray carrying crystal cut flutes, a gold bow wrapped around each one. A minor shudder crawled up his back, but he chalked it up to the cold hallway. He felt a jolt of anticipation spread through him like map lines, but it was gone when he exited the hallway.

Multiple long, arched windows lined the walls, allowing for lots of natural sunlight. There were leather sofas, lush throw pillows, and tables decorated with floral centrepieces. Most of the guests lounging were dressed in smart robes and high-end apparel, no doubt coming from affluent families or self-made money from Magical Britain and around the globe. Out of habit, he pushed up his glasses with his fingers. He was contemplating making a quick run back home to change, when a high, sickly sweet voice called his name.

She was seated by the windows, waving at him with her fingers. Some of the guests turned their heads, no doubt familiar with who Bellatrix Black was. He could have sworn the corner of her mouth ticced, but he chalked it up to his simmering anxiety.

I Can Hear the Bells

Harry felt like a fish out of water here. The more involved the groom was, the better he could build a theme centred on the couple. Speaking of which. Harry nodded and took out his little notebook. He made quick notes of it. So, vintage wedding, but very specific. Silver, maybe. Checkered floors, opulent chandeliers, performers in feathered accessories and beads.

An on-site band playing groovy jazz covers of the latest hits, like that band, Postmodern Jukebox. Could they afford flying in Postmodern Jukebox? That would be brilliant. She looked at him blankly, then her wild eyes regarded him with amused pleasure, like Harry was a funny new pet. Yeah, they could definitely afford Postmodern Jukebox. He knew one of the frequent singers was a squib. What the hell was he supposed to do with fifty thousand galleons?

I Can Hear The Bells - Hairspray - VAGALUME

Put edible 24k gold on the appetisers? I can tell you'll be very useful. They ascended the ebony marble staircase and arrived at the entrance to the hotel restaurant, the doors manned on either side by two burly men in ivory coloured suits. An elf popped up before them, holding a clipboard. Party of three. The two men guarding moved to hover their exposed wrists across a rectangular rocky slab on the door. A clicking noise could be heard, then they opened the doors and stepped aside to allow Bellatrix and Harry to enter.

Compared to The Three Broomsticks, or really anywhere else Harry had ever eaten at, the restaurant looked incredibly decadent. It was exactly the kind of place purebloods like Bellatrix would frequent. Just like in the lobby, they were immediately offered refreshments, which Harry declined and she accepted. Awe and adoration oozed off her in thick waves. He really needed to work on his easy tendency to get attracted to gold. If he kept this up he was going to be no worse than a Niffler. Merlin, Lily really got her habit from him. There was the sound of a chair moving back. The meeting took a while," said a smooth, rich voice and Harry immediately stiffened, only distantly aware of how his breathing hitched and how cold his hands suddenly became, like he dipped them in ice water.

Harry turned his head with a tight smile. Merlin, he hoped that whatever was happening with his face was a smile and not the honest-to-god freak out he was having internally. Harry breathed in sharply at the sight of him. Tom Marvolo Riddle looked exactly like the last time Harry saw him, as though he gracefully walked out of someone's bodice ripper fantasy on Witch Weekly. That is, if someone was obsessed with stupidly handsome purebloods summoned from the deepest, well-dressed pit of hell. Tom was probably the devil that ruled that circle, too. Dark hair and darker eyes, his hair tamed smoothly except for the stray curls that hung over his forehead.

He was aristocratic not just in his features, with those high cheekbones, lush mouth, and commanding gaze, but also in the way he carried himself. There was no denying the pureblood influence in his DNA. Harry felt something - thousands of years of evolutionary instinct, perhaps - warning him that if he followed the desire to flee now, to run from the hotel and never look back, something was going to follow. Relentlessly, like a snake on the chase. Tom flashed him that oh so familiar disarming smile and shook his hand, ''Tom Riddle.

The pleasure is mine.

I Can Hear The Bells lyrics

When their hands touched, Harry felt an electric jolt travel and spread across his nervous system like map lines. Get a hold of yourself. Fuck, how long has it been since he last saw him? Twelve years. Yet seeing him again made it feel as though their last argument was only yesterday. When Harry had broken off their relationship and told Tom he never wanted to see his face again. The scar on his forehead tickled with a phantom pain.

The other guy with the straw blond hair excused himself and left them. There was something familiar about him, but Harry couldn't remember. Harry took the chair opposite them, and when he passed by where Tom stood, he could faintly detect the spicy scent of cinnamon and dark chocolate. His stomach churned. There were one too many sensory memories for his liking.

What the hell is happening? Harry's occlumency wards were strong enough. Briefly, Tom's lips pressed into a tight line before Bellatrix placed a sharp-nailed hand over Tom's, stroking it in glee. We were thinking either black and gold, or blue and black. Like what Tom's face will be once I'm through with him , he thought. A waiter filled his glass with water and Harry gulped it down while Bellatrix kept talking at Tom. Oh, Tom was involved with wizarding politics for sure. But as Voldemort, campaigning his ridiculous agenda. How many nights had Harry spent listening to Tom's quill scratch as he worked on his manifesto?

Tom and I dated! We slept together!