Ron," Said Hermione In A Dignified Voice,

Then He Heard A Terrible Cry That Pulled At His Insides, That Expressed Agony Of A Kind That Neither Flame Nor Curse Could Cause, And He Stood Up, Swaying, More Frightened Than He Had Been That Day, More Frightened, Perhaps, Than He Had Been In His Whole Life.

This Was Their First Encounter With The Fact That A Full Stomach Meant Good Spirits; An Empty One, Bickering And Gloom.

Somewhere Out In The Darkness, A Phoenix Was Singing In A Way Harry Had Never Heard Before: A Stricken Lament Of Terrible Beauty. And Harry Felt, As He Had Felt About Phoenix Song Before, That The Music Was Inside Him, Not Without: It Was His Own Grief Turned Magically To Song.

I've No Idea Where Ideas Come From And I Hope I Never Find Out; It Would Spoil The Excitement For Me If It Turned Out I Just Have A Funny Little Wrinkle On The Surface Of My Brain Which Makes Me Think About Invisible Train Platforms.

Sword? Haven't Got A Sword. That Boy Has, Though. He'll Lend You One.