A Potterhead’s New Year’s Day–part III
Squeezing Andrew’s hand, I barely contain the urge to stand in the force of Dumbledore’s penetrating gaze, albeit it from a painting. Sensing my inability to form coherent words manifested itself again, my boyfriend steps up to the plate.
“Mr. Dumbledore. It’s an honor to meet you, sir. I can’t tell you how many tears Anna shed over your death…