I've Wanted To Be An Author As

The Consequences Of Our Actions Are Always So Complicated, So Diverse, That Predicting The Future Is A Very Difficult Business Indeed.

But The Idea Of The Dark Lord In Possesion Of The Deathstick Is, I Must Admit, Formidable.

Hedwig Didn't Return Until The End Of The Easter Holidays. Percy's Letter Was Enclosed In A Package Of Easter Eggs That Mrs. Weasley Had Sent. Both Harry's And Ron's Were The Size Of Dragon Eggs, And Full Of Home-made Toffee. Hermione's, However, Was Smaller Than A Chicken's Egg. Her Face Fell When She Saw It. "your Mum Doesn't Read Witch's Weekly, By Any Chance, Does She, Ron?" She Asked Quietly. "yeah," Said Ron, Whose Mouth Was Full Of Toffee. "gets It For The Recipes." Hermione Looked Sadly At Her Tiny Egg.

Sometimes, If She Simply Remained Quiet, And Let The Inadequacy Of His Excuses Reverberate On The Air, He Became Ashamed And Backtracked.

I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good.