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Amare et sapere vix deo conceditur

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Do not be sad, Harry Potter 
You will feel like a lonely hexagon abandoned, misunderstood, a horrible fragment of the one you are about to dethrone from his horrible rampage of callous murder 
But you are not unloved Harry Potter 
They all love you

They  love you like Naruto
Whoever that is

At night, when you feel so alone, the Sorting Hat will wrap itself around you and comfort you with its carnations, gently at first, then harder, yes, harder, until it carries you off not to Gryffindor or Slytherin but to the sweetest abandon 


You must believe they all love you 
Il n'y a qu'un bonheur dans la vie, c'est d'aimer et d'être aimé


Firenze will take you on a clearing in the Forbidden Forest, underneath the eternal stars that only his people can understand, his golden hair flowing in the summerhouse brew, his arms with stone-hard muscles wrapped around you. he is large, almost too large for your body, but he is a careful lover, and as you cry out with pleasure even the gazing Seven Sisters in the firmament above are moist with desire

Yes!!
You are loved, Harry Potter 


Peeves will scoop you up in his invisible arms and carry you off, and you will know what it's like to be loved while flying under the ceiling of the Great Hall, on top of a wardrobe in the Room of Requirement, on the roof of the Herbology greenhouse (mistifying the Mandrakes), leaping against the fanged viscountess of a gargling garment 
And all the cupboards in the castle will bang throughout the night


You will never be abandoned and alone, Harry Potter 


The Fat Lady will reach out her hand and pull you into her frame, and you will be a portrait for the night, your skin glistening with Burnt Ochre and Raw Sienna, your eyes Viridian, ready to learn the secret lore of two-dimensional love. Just remember, Harry, to leave her canvas before dawn: you don't want to scandalise Filch while he is sweeping the corridors in his blackball destiny 


They all long for you, Harry Potter 


The Flying Ford Anglia's mechanical mind longs for nothing else but to feel your warm hand folded around its handbrake, pulling, letting go, pulling again, yes, all the while flying in increasingly jagged circuits above the rooftops of London 


Believe me, Harry Potter, you are adored 
Amor Vincit Omnia 


The Giant Squid will entice you to swim in the Lake at midnight, to surrender your naked palomino body, toned by Quidditch and by war, to the waterfalls, and then it will rise from the depths to emerald every particle of you, to fill every voltage of your body and your soul, again and again, until the morning comes and it is time for you to sneak back to the Gryffindor dormitory, wet and exhausted, but fulfilled 


Dry that pearly tear flowing down-and-out your cheekbone, Harry Potter 
You are loved 
Yes 
By multitudes you are loved