Krystal’s Slow Passage Up The School Had

He Felt Even Angrier That Dumbledore Was Showing Signs Of Weakness. He Had No Business Being Weak When Harry Wanted To Rage And Storm At Him.

Oh, Come Off It,” Said Ron, Striding Over To Her And Whipping Her Results Out Of Her Hand. “yep— Ten ‘outstandings’ And One ‘exceeds Expectations’ At Defense Against The Dark Arts.” He Looked Down At Her, Half-amused, Half-exasperated. “you’re Actually Disappointed, Aren’t You?

On Harry Dug, Deeper And Deeper Into The Hard, Cold Earth, Subsuming His Grief In Sweat, Denying The Pain In His Scar.

I Was Ripped From My Body, I Was Less Than Spirit, Less Than The Meanest Ghost . . . But Still, I Was Alive.

He [uncle Vernon] Held Up The Envelope In Which Mrs. Weasley’s Letter Had Come, And Harry Had To Fight Down A Laugh. Every Bit Of It Was Covered In Stamps Except For A Square Inch On The Front, Into Which Mrs. Weasley Had Squeezed The Dursleys’ Address In Minute Writing. “she Did Put Enough Stamps On, Then,” Said Harry, Trying To Sound As Though Mrs. Weasley’s Was A Mistake Anyone Could Make.