Ron, at the next table, wasn’t having much more luck.
“Wingardium Leviosa!” he shouted, waving his long arms like a windmill.
“You’re saying it wrong,” Harry heard Hermione snap. “It’s Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa, make “gar” nice and long.”
“You do it, then, if you’re so clever,” Ron snarled.
Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.
“Oh, well done!” cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss Granger’s done it!”
Ron was in a very bad temper by the end of the class.
‘What makes you so clever?’ I asked.
‘I’m not going to go for coffee for you,’ she said.
‘Listen – I’m not going to ask you!’
‘That’, she said, ‘is what makes you stupid.’
What can you say about a twenty-five-old girl who died?
You can say that she was beautiful and intelligent. She loved Mozart and Bach and the Beatles. And me. Once, when she told me that, I asked her who came first. She answered, smiling, ‘Like in the ABC.’ I smiled too. But now I wonder. Was she talking about my first name? If she was, I came last, behind Mozart. Or did she mean my last name? If she did, I came between Bach and Beatles. But I still didn’t come first. That worries terribly now. You see, I always had to be Number One. Family pride, you see.
'Please,' she said, 'can you tell me which way to go from here?'
'But where do you want to get to?' said the Cat.
'It doesn’t matter—' began Alice.
'Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,' said the Cat.
'But I would like to get somewhere,' Alice explained.
'If you just go on walking in the end you’ll arrive somewhere' said the Cat