And ye poore Pilgrimes, that vvith reſtleſſe toyle / VVearie your ſelues in vvandring deſert vvayes, / Till that you come, vvhere ye your vovves aſſoyle, / VVhen paſsing by ye read theſe vvofull layes / On my graue vvritten, […]

He goes jogging every day to keep in trim.

There is a distinct sense of freedom in the solitude of the night. The day's atmosphere is surcharged with noisome anxiety, the hours laden with impending terrors. But the night is soothing.

What are we potty Potter fans going to do now that the story has come to an end? Do we throw up our hands and relent that ten years of Potterdom were great, but it's over now, and we should just get on with our lives?