Enemies Of The Heir, Beware! You'll Be

You Are Here To Learn The Subtle Science And Exact Art Of Potion-making. As There Is Little Foolish Wand-waving Here, Many Of You Will Hardly Believe This Is Magic. I Don't Expect You Will Really Understand The Beauty Of The Softly Simmering Cauldron With Its Shimmering Fumes, The Delicate Power Of Liquids That Creep Through Human Veins, Bewitching The Mind, Ensnaring The Senses. . . I Can Teach You How To Bottle Fame, Brew Glory, Even Stopper Death — If You Aren't As Big A Bunch Of Dunderheads As I Usually Have To Teach.

I'm A Writer, And I Will Write What I Want To Write.

Yes, My Tiara Sets Off The Whole Thing Nicely," Said Auntie Muriel In A Rather Carrying Whisper. "but I Must Say, Ginevra's Dress Is Far Too Low-cut." Ginny Glanced Round, Grinning, Winked At Harry, Then Quickly Faced The Front Again.

Christmas Was Coming. One Morning In Mid-december, Hogwarts Woke To Find Itself Covered In Several Feet Of Snow. The Lake Froze Solid And The Weasley Twins Were Punished For Bewitching Several Snowballs So That They Followed Quirrell Around, Bouncing Off The Back Of His Turban.

My Brain Surprises Even Me Sometimes.