After talking things out with Hermione, Harry had crashed. She had insisted he take her bed and he had only given in after his eyelids refused to stay open long enough for him to argue. He slept soundly for once, a dreamless, untroubled sleep broken only by the whistle of a tea kettle twelve hours later. He was grateful for the tea and for the ( Read more... )

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived ( Read more... )