You Foul, Lying, Evil Little Cockroach!

She Navigated Away From The Parish Council Message Board And Dropped Into Her Favorite Medical Website, Where She Painstakingly Entered The Words "brain" And "death" In The Search Box. The Suggestions Were Endless. Shirley Scrolled Through The Possibilities, Her Mild Eyes Rolling Up And Down, Wondering To Which Of These Deadly Conditions, Some Of Them Unpronounceable, She Owed Her Present Happiness.

If You Want To See The True Measure Of A Man, Watch How He Treats His Inferiors, Not His Equals.

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.

Everything Had Shattered. The Fact That It Was All Still There — The Walls And The Chairs And The Children’s Pictures On The Walls — Meant Nothing. Every Atom Of It Had Been Blasted Apart And Reconstituted In An Instant, And Its Appearance Of Permanence And Solidity Was Laughable; It Would Dissolve At A Touch, For Everything Was Suddenly Tissue-thin And Friable.

Instead (harry) Contented Himself With Scrawling A Note To Ron: Let's Do It Tonight.