Seize him. Cut his throat. Oh, wait! I’ve changed my mind. Let him go. Step back three paces. Turn around. Close your eyes.. Power is power.
Happy Birthday, Hugh Michael Horace Dancy (June 19, 1975)
I just want to buy books and read books and organise books. Is that such a hard wish for life?
“And under here, Hedwig”—Harry pulled open a door under the stairs—“is where I used to sleep; You never knew me then— Blimey, it’s small, I’d forgotten…”
Harry looked around at the stacked shoes and umbrellas, remembering how he used to wake every morning looking up at the underside of the staircase, which was more often than not adorned with a spider or two. Those had been the days before he had known anything about his true identity; before he had found out how his parents had died or why such strange things often happened around him. But Harry could still remember the dreams that had dogged him, even in those days: confused dreams involving flashes of green light…