Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf.

For Future Reference, Harry, It Is Raspberry...although Of Course, If I Were A Death Eater, I Would Have Been Sure To Research My Own Jam Preferences Before Impersonating Myself.

Why Don't You Confer With Mr. Finnigan? As I Recall, He Has A Particular Proclivity For Pyrotechnics.

She Navigated Away From The Parish Council Message Board And Dropped Into Her Favorite Medical Website, Where She Painstakingly Entered The Words "brain" And "death" In The Search Box. The Suggestions Were Endless. Shirley Scrolled Through The Possibilities, Her Mild Eyes Rolling Up And Down, Wondering To Which Of These Deadly Conditions, Some Of Them Unpronounceable, She Owed Her Present Happiness.

Their Reward For Enduring The Awful Experience Was The Right To Tell People About It.

Yes, There Are Parallels. The Difference Is That I Just Look At [my Son] David And Think That He's Absolutely Perfect, Whereas You Look At The Finished Book And You Think, 'oh, Damn It, I Should Have Changed That.' You're Never Happy. Whereas With A Baby, You're Happy. If You've Got A Perfect Baby, You're Just Grateful.