Look . . . At . .

The Dedication Of This Book Is Split Seven Ways: To Neil, To Jessica, To David, To Kenzie, To Di, To Anne, And To You, If You Have Stuck With Harry Until The Very End.

Bigotry Is Probably The Thing I Detest Most.

Half An Hour Later, Each Of Them Had Been Given A Complicated Circular Chart, And Was Attempting To Fill In The Position Of The Planets At Their Moment Of Birth. It Was Dull Work, Requiring Much Consultation Of Timetables And Calculation Of Angles. “i’ve Got Two Neptunes Here,” Said Harry After A While, Frowning Down At His Piece Of Parchment, “that Can’t Be Right, Can It?” “aaaaah,” Said Ron, Imitating Professor Trelawney’s Mystical Whisper, “when Two Neptunes Appear In The Sky, It Is A Sure Sign That A Midget In Glasses Is Being Born, Harry . . .

Sometimes Ideas Just Come To Me. Other Times I Have To Sweat And Almost Bleed To Make Ideas Come. It's A Mysterious Process, But I Hope I Never Find Out Exactly How It Works.

Age Is Foolish And Forgetful When It Underestimates Youth.