Oh, He Knows How To Play, Little

He Put His Foot On One Pedal, Scooted A Few Yards And Swung His Other Leg Over The Saddle. He Soared Left Into The Vertiginously Sloping Hillside Road And Sped, Without Touching His Brakes ... The Hedgerows And Sky Blurred; He Imagined Himself In A Velodrome As The Wind Whipped His Hair Clean...

He Felt His Heart Pounding Fiercely In His Chest. How Strange That In His Dread Of Death, It Pumped All The Harder, Valiantly Keeping Him Alive. But It Would Have To Stop, And Soon. Its Beats Were Numbered. How Many Would There Be Time For, As He Rose And Walked Through The Castle For The Last Time, Out Into The Grounds And Into The Forest?

Some Of Her Self-hatred Had Oozed Out With The Blood.

Mr. And Mrs. Dursley, Of Number Four, Privet Drive, Were Proud To Say That They Were Perfectly Normal, Thank You Very Much. They Were The Last People You'd Expect To Be Involved In Anything Strange Or Mysterious, Because They Just Didn't Hold With Such Nonsense.

The Poor Things Keep Calling In Those – Those Pumbles, I Think They're Called – You Know, The Ones Who Mend Pipes And Things – " "plumbers?" " – Exactly, Yes, But Of Course They're Flummoxed.