All We Do Is Read The Stupid

Training For The Ballet, Potter?" Yelled Malfoy.

Well — I Was Lucky Once, Wasn't I?” Said Harry, Pointing At His Scar. “i Might Get Lucky Again.

Dawn Seemed To Follow Midnight With Indecent Haste.

One Of The Many Things I Learned At The End Of That Classics Corridor Down Which I Ventured At The Age Of 18, In Search Of Something I Could Not Then Define, Was This, Written By The Greek Author Plutarch: What We Achieve Inwardly Will Change Outer Reality. That Is An Astonishing Statement And Yet Proven A Thousand Times Every Day Of Our Lives. It Expresses, In Part, Our Inescapable Connection With The Outside World, The Fact That We Touch Other People’s Lives Simply By Existing.

Harry Felt Winded, As Though He Had Just Walked Into Something Heavy. He Had Last Seen Those Cool Gray Eyes Through Slits In A Death Eater’s Hood, And Last Heard That Man’s Voice Jeering In A Dark Graveyard While Lord Voldemort Tortured Him. He Could Not Believe That Lucius Malfoy Dared Look Him In The Face; He Could Not Believe That He Was Here, In The Ministry Of Magic, Or That Cornelius Fudge Was Talking To Him, When Harry Had Told Fudge Mere Weeks Ago That Malfoy Was A Death Eater.