You Lose Your Individuality A Huge Amount

No Story Lives Unless Someone Wants To Listen. So Thank You, All Of You.

The Sky Was A Cold Iron-grey, Like The Underside Of A Shield. A Sharp Breeze Lifted The Hems Of Skirts And Rattled The Leaves On The Immature Trees; A Spiteful, Chill Wind That Sought Out Your Weakest Places, The Nape Of Your Neck And Your Knees, And Which Denied You The Comfort Of Dreaming, Of Retreating A Little From Reality.

They See Hermione As Someone Who Is Not Vulnerable, But I See Her As Someone Who Does Have Quite A Lot Of Vulnerability In Her Personality.

"oh, Of Course," Said Ron, Clapping A Hand To His Forehead. "i Forgot We'll Be Hunting Down Voldemort In A Mobile Library."

Power Was My Weakness And My Temptation.