Why Would I Go Looking For Someone

Karakarof Spat Onto The Ground At Dumbledore's Feet. In One Swift Movement, Hagrid Seized The Front Of Karkaroff's Furs, Lifted Him Into The Air, And Slammed Him Against A Nearby Tree.

Sirius's Gaunt Face Broke Out Into The First True Smile Harry Had Seen Upon It. The Difference It Made Was Startling, As Though A Person Ten Years Younger Were Shining Through The Starved Mask; For A Moment He Was Recognizable As The Man Who Had Laughed At Harry's Parents' Wedding.

You Think The Dead We Loved Truly Ever Leave Us? You Think That We Don't Recall Them More Clearly In Times Of Great Trouble?

It Was, He Thought, The Difference Between Being Dragged Into The Arena To Face A Battle To The Death And Walking Into The Arena With Your Head Held High. Some People, Perhaps, Would Say That There Was Little To Choose Between The Two Ways, But Dumbledore Knew - And So Do I, Thought Harry, With A Rush Of Fierce Pride, And So Did My Parents - That There Was All The Difference In The World.

The Fame Thing Is Interesting Because I Never Wanted To Be Famous, And I Never Dreamt I Would Be Famous. You Know, My Fantasy Of Being A Famous Writer, And Again There's A Slight Disconnect With Reality Which Happens A Lot With Me. I Imagined Being A Famous Writer Would Be Like Being Like Jane Austen.