I sat and thought for four (delayed train) hours, and all the details bubbled up in my brain, and this scrawny, black-haired, bespectacled boy who didn't know he was a wizard became more and more real to me.

What would come, would come...and you would have to meet it, when it did.

Bless my soul,” whispered the old bartender, “Harry Potter . . . what an honor.

Aunt Petunia burst into tears. Hestia Jones gave her an approving look that changed to outrage as Aunt Petunia ran forward and embraced Dudley rather than Harry. 'S-so sweet, Dudders...' she sobbed into his massive chest. 'S-such a lovely b-boy...s-saying thank you...' 'But he hadn't said thank you at all!' said Hestia indignantly. 'He only said he didn't think Harry was a waste of space!' 'Yeah, but coming from Dudley that's like "I love you.

Wow, we're identical!

But Death was cunning.

Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.