I Kept Arguing That 'love Is The

There Was A Brief Silence In Which The Distant Echo Of Hagrid Smashing Down A Wooden Front Door Seemed To Reverberate Through The Intervening Years.

If She Could Have Died...if She Could Have Disappeared Forever...but The Solid Surface Of Things Refused To Dissolve Around Her, And Her Body, Her Hateful Hermaphrodite's Body, Continued In Its Stubborn, Lumpen Way, To Live.

She Can't Keep Writing About What A Tragic Little Hero I Am, It'll Get Boring.

He Did Not Know Or Care Whether They Were Wizards Or Muggles, Friends Or Foes; All He Cared About Was That A Dark Stain Was Spreading Across Dobby's Front, And That He Had Stretched Out His Thin Arms To Harry With A Look Of Supplication. Harry Caught Him And Laid Him Sideways On The Cool Grass. "dobby, No, Don't Die, Don't Die -" The Elf's Eyes Found Him, And His Lips Trembled With The Effort To Form Words. "harry...potter..." And Then With A Little Shudder The Elf Became Quite Still, And His Eyes Were Nothing More Than Great Glassy Orbs, Sprinkled With Light From The Stars They Could Not See.

Cinderella? Snow White? What's That? An Illness?