echoesofthebadwolf

"Harry, I think it’s Christmas Eve!" said Hermione.

“Is it?”

He had lost track of the date; they had not seen a newspaper for weeks.

“I’m sure it is,” said Hermione, her eyes upon the church. “They… they’ll be in there, won’t they? Your mum and dad? I can see the graveyard behind it.”

Harry felt a thrill of something that was beyond excitement, more like fear. Now that he was so near, he wondered whether he wanted to see after all. Perhaps Hermione knew how he was feeling, because she reached for his hand and took the lead for the first time, pulling him forward. Halfway across the square, however, she stopped dead.

whouffle

One day, I shall come back. Yes, I shall come back.

Life depends on change and renewal.

Death is always more frightening when it strikes invisibly.

It’s the end, but the moment has been prepared for.

You may disguise your features but you can never disguise your intent.

Change, my dear. And it seems not a moment too soon.

Regeneration is a lottery, and I’ve drawn the short plank.

Friends, companions I’ve known, I salute you.

Of course, suppose it makes sense. Wearing a bit thin.

You were absolutely fantastic. And do you know what? So was I!

I don’t want to go.

I will always remember when the Doctor was me.