Harry Potter and Karol walked amongst the beautiful gardens, the gardens Karol remembered from his youth.

Harry knew the 'Truth,' Karol, not yet.

"It's all changing, you know," said Harry. "Changing?" Replied Karol lost in the reverie of 'his,' 'heaven.'

"Papa Ratzi's going to mess things up, you know."

Karol stopped. The beautiful gardens fading, for one parsec, from the vestige of his diminishing little, conscious, "I." "Paparazzi? What are those demons doing down there now?" Karol replied.

Harry smiled. "NOT, 'paparazzi,' "Papa Ratzi!"

Karol paused, his little reflective mindspace reconstructing. "You mean the smoke from your book didn't work?" He replied incredulously.

Harry laughed. "I am only the Majick that your bicameral mind conjures up." He replied and disappeared leaving Karol seeing the interior of the wooden top of the coffin within which the Church had entombed him, against his wishes.

Karol wished he could remember Harry's next Spell. It did not emanate from deep within his diminishing little reconstruct, "I."

It would have hurt him, greatly, had he seen; HERE:

"In March 2003, Ratzinger wrote thanking her for sending him a copy of "your informative book". He said: "It is good that you are throwing light on Harry Potter, because these are subtle seductions that work imperceptibly, and because of that deeply, and erode Christianity in the soul before it can even grow properly."

He was a Saint. Locked, physically decaying, within the wooden box the Catholic Church had entombed him within, until it too decayed, allowing him his WISH to join Mother Earth!

Paparazzi continues to enforce His wish and the 'Followers' will obey.

There will be no "Majick Here!"

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