Gavin Saw A Grave Purely As A

But I Was The Most Unashamed Lone Parent You Were Ever Going To Meet.

The Difficult Thing, The Glorious Thing, Was To Be Who You Really Were, Even If That Person Was Cruel Or Dangerous, Particularly If Cruel And Dangerous. There Was Courage In Not Distinguishing The Animal You Happened To Be. On The Other Hand, You Had To Avoid Pretending To Be More Of An Animal Than You Were: Take That Path, Start Exaggerating Or Faking And You Became Just Another Cubby, Just As Much Of A Liar, A Hypocrite

There Is Plenty Of Ambitious Competition And Hypocrisy In The Middle Class, Which Makes It A Rather Fertile Environment For A Writer.

He Knew One Thing Only, And It Was Beyond Fear Or Reason: He Was Not Going To Die Crouching Here Like A Child Playing Hide-and-seek; He Was Not Going To Die Kneeling At Voldemort’s Feet . . . He Was Going To Die Upright Like His Father, And He Was Going To Die Trying To Defend Himself, Even If No Defense Was Possible. . . .

He Read The Letter Again, But Could Not Take In Any More Meaning Than He Had Done The First Time And Was Reduced To Staring At The Handwriting Itself. She Had Made Her G's The Same Way He Did : He Searched Through The Letter For Every One Of Them, And Each Felt Like A Friendly Little Wave Glimpsed From Behind A Veil. The Letter Was An Incredible Treasure, Proof That Lily Potter Had Lived, Really Lived, That Her Warm Hand Had Once Moved Across This Parchment, Tracing Ink Into These Letters, These Words, Words About Him, Harry, Her Son.