I Can't Give A Professor Love!

Sword? Haven't Got A Sword. That Boy Has, Though. He'll Lend You One.

I Think What Is Probably Hard For People To Imagine Is How Wrapped Up The 17 Years' Work On Harry Potter Is With What Was Going On In My Life At The Time. I Was Mourning The Loss Of This World That I Had Written For So Long And Loved So Much. I Was Also Mourning The Retreat It Had Been From - From Ordinary Life, Which It Has Been. And It Forced Me To Look Back At 17 Years Of My Life And Remember Things.

And Hermione Was Struggling To Her Feet In The Wreckage, And Three Red-headed Men Were Grouped On The Ground Where The Wall Had Blasted Apart. Harry Grabbed Hermione's Hand As They Staggered And Stumbled Over Stone And Wood. 'no - No - No!' Someone Was Shouting. 'no! Fred! No!' And Percy Was Shaking His Brother, And Ron Was Kneeling Beside Them, And Fred's Eyes Stared Without Seeing, The Ghost Of His Last Laugh Still Etched Upon His Face.

Because To Confide A Part Of Your Soul To Something That Can Think And Move For Itself Is Obviously A Very Risky Business.

Vot Is The Point Of Being An International Quidditch Player If All The Good-looking Girls Are Taken?