To Hurt Is As Human As To

Maybe He Murdered Myrtle; That Would’ve Done Everyone A Favor. . . .

Yes, Alive,” Said Fudge. “that Is — I Don’t Know — Is A Man Alive If He Can’t Be Killed? I Don’t Really Understand It, And Dumbledore Won’t Explain Properly — But Anyway, He’s Certainly Got A Body And Is Walking And Talking And Killing, So I Suppose, For The Purposes Of Our Discussion, Yes, He’s Alive.

There Was A Horrible Smell In The Kitchen The Next Morning When Harry Went In For Breakfast. It Seemed To Be Coming From A Large Metal Tub In The Sink. He Went To Have A Look. The Tub Was Full Of What Looked Like Dirty Rags Swimming In Gray Water. "what's This?" He Asked Aunt Petunia. "your New School Uniform," She Said. Harry Looked In The Bowl Again. "oh," He Said, "i Didn't Realize It Had To Be So Wet.

Things Denied, Things Untold, Things Hidden And Disguised.

He Had No Memory Of Ever Being Hugged Like This, As Though By A Mother. The Full Weight Of Everything He Had Seen That Night Seemed To Fall In Upon Him As Mrs. Weasley Held Him To Her. His Mother's Face, His Father's Voice, The Sight Of Cedric, Dead On The Ground All Started Spinning In His Head Until He Could Hardly Bear It, Until He Was Screwing Up His Face Against The Howl Of Misery Fighting To Get Out Of Him.