Looking For Alaska by John Green (2005)
In real life, I’m the werewolf, just trying to cope.
“Knights of the Round Table. Had all of King Arthur’s knights, and they were all on the quest for the Holy Grail. And I remember looking at this picture of Sir Galahad, an-and he was kneeling and light streaming over his face. And I remember thinking, uhm, I could never go on a quest like that, because I’m not clean.”
I’m about to close the gates of hell forever.
A breeze ruffled the neat hedges of Privet Drive, which lay silent and tidy under the inky sky, the very last place you would expect astonishing things to happen. Harry Potter rolled over inside his blankets without waking up. One small hand closed on the letter beside him and he slept on, not knowing he was special, not knowing he was famous, not knowing he would be woken in a few hours’ time by Mrs. Dursley’s scream as she opened the front door to put out the milk bottles, nor that he would spend the next few weeks being prodded and pinched by his cousin Dudley…He couldn’t know that at this very moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: “To Harry Potter - the boy who lived!