Harry Potter: Looking at HimThe grime on this wall was particularly thick, and I leaned against the sponge, pressing my weight against it as I scrubbed. The color was a bit lighter in my patch, and I let out a sigh, pushing back loose hair with the back of my wrist while breathing hard. This room would take forever.More Like This
No matter what charms Mrs. Weasley put upon my sponge, or even the wall, the dirt just wouldn't go away--a bit of elbow grease was still required. So I, being the only Muggle-born in the old estate, offered to help while the others rid the wardrobes and corners of boggarts or other unwanted creatures.
My arms were aching just a bit, but I didn't want to stop--if I stopped, it would be harder to start again; best to finish the action in one go.
I let my thoughts wander, trying to ignore the throbbing in my forearms. I wonder what Harry's doing now?
Poor Harry, kept in the dark with his dreadful aunt and uncle while Ron and I stuck it out here at Grimmauld Place with Sirius and