The Hallows, The Hallows. A Desperate Man’s

I Loved Writing Dumbledore And He Is The Epitome Of Goodness.

She Navigated Away From The Parish Council Message Board And Dropped Into Her Favorite Medical Website, Where She Painstakingly Entered The Words "brain" And "death" In The Search Box. The Suggestions Were Endless. Shirley Scrolled Through The Possibilities, Her Mild Eyes Rolling Up And Down, Wondering To Which Of These Deadly Conditions, Some Of Them Unpronounceable, She Owed Her Present Happiness.

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.

What You Write Becomes Who You Are… So Make Sure You Love What You Write!

What Are You Doing With All Those Books Anyway?" Ron Asked. Just Trying To Decide Which Ones To Take With Us," Said Hermione. When We're Looking For The Horcruxes." Oh, Of Course," Said Ron, Clapping A Hand To His Forehead. "i Forgot We'll Be Hunting Down Voldemort In A Mobile Library.