Like A Tongue On Frozen Steel, Like

He Lay Face Down, Listening To The Silence. He Was Perfectly Alone. Nobody Was Watching. Nobody Else Was There. He Was Not Perfectly Sure That He Was There Himself.

Like A Tongue On Frozen Steel, Like Flesh In Flame —

Bless My Soul,” Whispered The Old Bartender, “harry Potter . . . What An Honor.

This Exchange Marked The Beginning Of Mr. Malfoy's Long Campaign To Have Me Removed From My Post As Headmaster Of Hogwarts, And Of Mine To Have Him Removed From His Position As Lord Voldemort's Favorite Death Eater. My Response Prompted Several Further Letters From Mr. Malfoy, But As They Consisted Mainly Of Opprobrious Remarks On My Sanity, Parentage, And Hygiene, Their Relevance To This Commentary Is Remote.

I Was Set Free Because My Greatest Fear Had Been Realized, And I Still Had A Daughter Who I Adored, And I Had An Old Typewriter And A Big Idea. And So Rock Bottom Became A Solid Foundation On Which I Rebuilt My Life.