In Opening Them, He Discovered That He

I Always Have A Basic Plot Outline, But I Like To Leave Some Things To Be Decided While I Write.

My Daughter Jessica Said To Me Recently, Who Wasn't Sorted Into Hufflepuff, 'i Think We Should All Want To Be Hufflepuffs.' I Can Only Say To You, I Would Not Be Disappointed At All To Be In Hufflepuff. I'm A Little Upset Anyone Does Feel That Way.

He Was Tall, Thin, And Very Old, Judging By The Silver Of His Hair And Beard, Which Were Both Long Enough To Tuck Into His Belt. He Was Wearing Long Robes, A Purple Cloak That Swept The Ground, And High-heeled, Buckled Boots. His Blue Eyes Were Light, Bright, And Sparkling Behind Half-moon Spectacles And His Nose Was Very Long And Crooked, As Though It Had Been Broken At Least Twice. This Man's Name Was Albus Dumbledore.

And Harry, With The Unerring Skill Of The Seeker, Caught The Wand In His Free Hand As Voldemort Fell Backward, Arms Splayed, The Slit Pupils Of The Scarlet Eyes Rolling Upward. Tom Riddle Hit The Floor With A Mundane Finality, His Body Feeble And Shrunken, The White Hands Empty, The Snakelike Face Vacant And Unknowing. Voldemort Was Dead, Killed By His Own Rebounding Curse, And Harry Stood With Two Wands In His Hands, Staring Down At His Enemy's Shell.

A Horcrux Is The Complete Opposite Of A Human Being.