Merkin darted through the foliage, his black curls swishing around him and his sparkle sack softly swinging against his leg. He was extremely annoyed with the way of day, as he roasted his bat over the campfire, and tore at the stringy meat. Where wer the spidies? He knew they lurked in the forest somewhere. Suddenly one pooped from a tree and attacked! It came at him with fangs and he lept to his feet and threw some sparkle dusts at it. His job was done and he put the stiff stick of meat back into his mouth.

Hermoine had found out Harry's secret and now it was time to go home. She did, tearfully. And even though she knew it wasn't meant to be she glided in space. Maybe Harry could fight the dark forces though! Ever since she had slept with Hagrid she was tired.

Harry sat at his desk contentedly, and took out his papers and pens and wrote. Harry sat at his desk contentedly and took out his papers and pens and wrote. Sometimes he still thought about ron and Dumbledore in a fancy way. So he let out his feelings in triumphant poetry that he oculd only lichen in the greats like Bill Blinton, Robert frost and Ralph Lauren.

His four fingered writing.

Destruction and cheose. Weird and cactus. How can I lounge and hum at the same time? Humbert would know. How can I lounge and hum at the same time? I am harry potter. I am not harry potter.