Mr. And Mrs. Dursley, Of

Dementors Are Among The Foulest Creatures That Walk This Earth. They Infest The Darkest, Filthiest Places, They Glory In Decay And Despair, They Drain Peace, Hope, And Happiness Out Of The Air Around Them. Even Muggles Feel Their Presence, Though They Can’t See Them. Get Too Near A Dementor And Every Good Feeling, Every Happy Memory Will Be Sucked Out Of You. If It Can, The Dementor Will Feed On You Long Enough To Reduce You To Something Like Itself — Soul-less And Evil. You’ll Be Left With Nothing But The Worst Experiences Of Your Life.

I Imagined Being A Famous Writer Would Be Like Being Like Jane Austen.

Do Not Pity The Dead, Harry.

I'm Serious, Harry, Don't Go." But Harry Only Had One Thought In His Head, Which Was To Get Back In Front Of The Mirror, And Ron Wasn't Going To Stop Him. That Third Night He Found His Way More Quickly Than Before. He Was Walking So Fast He Knew He Was Making More Noise Than Was Wise, But He Didn't Meet Anyone. And There Were His Mother And Father Smiling At Him Again, And One Of His Grandfathers Nodding Happily. Harry Sank Down To Sit On The Floor In Front Of The Mirror. There Was Nothing To Stop Him From Staying Here All Night With His Family. Nothing At All.

Interesting Theory. Has Anyone Ever Tried Sticking A Sword In Voldemort? Maybe The Ministry Should Put Some People Onto That, Instead Of Wasting Their Time Stripping Down Deluminators Or Covering Up Breakouts From Azkaban.