I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up

But The Idea Of The Dark Lord In Possesion Of The Deathstick Is, I Must Admit, Formidable.

Everything Had Shattered. The Fact That It Was All Still There — The Walls And The Chairs And The Children’s Pictures On The Walls — Meant Nothing. Every Atom Of It Had Been Blasted Apart And Reconstituted In An Instant, And Its Appearance Of Permanence And Solidity Was Laughable; It Would Dissolve At A Touch, For Everything Was Suddenly Tissue-thin And Friable.

Right, You've Got A Crooked Sort Of Cross..." He Consulted Unfogging The Future. "that Means You're Going To Have 'trials And Suffering' — Sorry About That — But There's A Thing That Could Be The Sun... Hang On... That Means 'great Happiness'... So You're Going To Suffer But Be Very Happy..." "you Need Your Inner Eye Tested, If You Ask Me," Said Ron, And They Both Had To Stifle Their Laughs As Professor Trelawney Gazed In Their Direction.

Even If I Could, I Wouldn't. Scars Can Come In Handy. I Have One Myself Above My Left Knee That Is A Perfect Map Of The London Underground.

Yes, It Is Easy To See That Nearly Six Years Of Magical Education Have Not Been Wasted On You, Potter. Ghosts Are Transparent.