I'm Not A Natural Joiner.

Every Now And Then I Read A Poem That Does Touch Something In Me, But I Never Turn To Poetry For Solace Or Pleasure In The Way That I Throw Myself Into Prose.

In Opening Them, He Discovered That He Had Eyes.

Such Loyalty Is Admirable, Of Course,” Said Scrimgeour, Who Seemed To Be Restraining His Irritation With Difficulty, “but Dumbledore Is Gone, Harry. He’s Gone.” “he Will Only Be Gone From The School When None Here Are Loyal To Him,” Said Harry, Smiling In Spite Of Himself.

What's That?" He Snarled, Staring At The Envelope Harry Was Still Clutching In His Hand. "if It's Another Form For Me To Sign, You've Got Another -" "it's Not," Said Harry Cheerfully. "it's A Letter From My Godfather." "godfather?" Sputtered Uncle Vernon. "you Haven't Got A Godfather!" "yes, I Have," Said Harry Brightly. "he Was My Mum And Dad's Best Friend. He's A Convicted Murderer, But He's Broken Out Of Wizard Prison And He's On The Run. He Likes To Keep In Touch With Me, Though...keep Up With My News...check If I'm Happy.

We’re All Going To Keep Fighting, Harry. You Know That?