I Am Prouder Of My Years As

Many Prefer Not To Exercise Their Imaginations At All. They Choose To Remain Comfortably Within The Bounds Of Their Own Experience, Never Troubling To Wonder How It Would Feel To Have Been Born Other Than They Are. They Can Refuse To Hear Screams Or To Peer Inside Cages; They Can Close Their Minds And Hearts To Any Suffering That Does Not Touch Them Personally; They Can Refuse To Know. I Might Be Tempted To Envy People Who Can Live That Way, Except That I Do Not Think They Have Any Fewer Nightmares Than I Do. The Wilfully Unimaginative See More Monsters. They Are Often More Afraid.

Mr. Moony Presents His Compliments To Professor Snape, And Begs Him To Keep His Abnormally Large Nose Out Of Other People's Business. Mr. Prongs Agrees With Mr. Moony, And Would Like To Add That Professor Snape Is An Ugly Git. Mr. Padfoot Would Like To Register His Astonishment That An Idiot Like That Ever Became A Professor. Mr. Wormtail Bids Professor Snape Good Day, And Advises Him To Wash His Hair, The Slimeball.

That's Chess!" Snapped Ron. "you've Got To Make Some Sacrifices!

I Would Be A Liar If I Said I Don't Care [about My Appearance]; Yes, I Care. I Found It Very Difficult, When I First Became Well Known, To Read Criticism About How I Look, How Messy My Hair Was, And How Generally Unkempt I Look. The Nastiest Thing Ever Written Was Written By A Man, And I Do Remember That. I Wasn't Looking For It Either, It Was Just Simply In The Newspaper I Was Reading.

The Dedication Of This Book Is Split Seven Ways: To Neil, To Jessica, To David, To Kenzie, To Di, To Anne, And To You, If You Have Stuck With Harry Until The Very End.