Books Can Be Misleading...

Poverty Entails Fear And Stress And Sometimes Depression. It Means A Thousand Petty Humiliations And Hardships.

Sirius Looked Slightly Disconcerted For A Moment, Then Said, "i'll Look For Him Later, I Expect I'll Find Him Upstairs Crying His Eyes Out Over My Mother's Old Bloomers Or Something... Of Course, He Might Have Crawled Into The Airing Cupboard And Died... But I Mustn't Get My Hopes Up.

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.

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.

I Love A Good Dorothy L. Sayers.