I Love A Good Dorothy L. Sayers.

He Was About To Go Home, About To Return To The Place Where He Had Had A Family. It Was In Godric’s Hollow That, But For Voldemort, He Would Have Grown Up And Spent Every School Holiday. He Could Have Invited Friends To His House. . . . He Might Even Have Had Brothers And Sisters. . . . It Would Have Been His Mother Who Had Made His Seventeenth Birthday Cake. The Life He Had Lost Had Hardly Ever Seemed So Real To Him As At This Moment, When He Knew He Was About To See The Place Where It Had Been Taken From Him.

Why Were You Lurking Under Our Window?" "yes - Yes, Good Point, Petunia! What Were You Doing Under Our Windows, Boy?" "listening To The News," Said Harry In A Resigned Voice. His Aunt And Uncle Exchanged Looks Of Outrage. "listening To The News! Again?" "well, It Changes Every Day, You See," Said Harry.

It's Going To Be All Right, Sir," Harry Said Over And Over Again, More Worried By Dumbledore's Silence Than He Had Been By His Weakened Voice. "we're Nearly There ... I Can Apparate Us Both Back ... Don't Worry ..." "i Am Not Worried, Harry," Said Dumbledore, His Voice A Little Stronger Despite The Freezing Water. "i Am With You.

I'm A Very Distracted Person.

Seventeen, Eh!" Said Hagrid As He Accepted A Bucket-sized Glass Of Wine From Fred. "six Years To The Day We Met, Harry, D’yeh Remember It?" "vaguely," Said Harry, Grinning Up At Him. "didn’t You Smash Down The Front Door, Give Dudley A Pig’s Tail, And Tell Me I Was A Wizard?" "i Forge’ The Details," Hagrid Chortled.