As far as informing the headmaster, Harry had no idea where Dumbledore went during the summer holidays. He amused himself for a moment, picturing Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, full-length wizard's robes, and pointed hat, stretched out on a beach somewhere, rubbing suntan lotion onto his long crooked nose.

I bet you’re not dangerous at all, are you? Are you, you great ugly brute?

It was on the corner of the street that he noticed the first sign of something peculiar - a cat reading a map.

I think what is probably hard for people to imagine is how wrapped up the 17 years' work on Harry Potter is with what was going on in my life at the time. I was mourning the loss of this world that I had written for so long and loved so much. I was also mourning the retreat it had been from - from ordinary life, which it has been. And it forced me to look back at 17 years of my life and remember things.

Imagine losing fingernails, Harry! That really puts our sufferings into perspective, doesn't it?

He sobbed in desperation at the burden of fear he carried with him every day of his life.

Bill, don’t look at me — I’m ’ideous.