You’d think a bit of kissing would cheer her up.
Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe.
You could tie my hands to my sides, I suppose, but I have to write. For my own mental health, I need to write.
We must try not to sink beneath our anguish, Harry, but battle on.
Do I look stupid?" snarled Uncle Vernon, a bit of fried egg dangling from his bushy mustache.
I have spied for you and lied for you, put myself in mortal danger for you. Everything was supposed to be to keep Lily Potter’s son safe. Now you tell me you have been raising him like a pig for slaughter —