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Ren Alexander

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“Alex heard a stirring in the Hall. Brian had arrived. They cleared a path for him, saluting with mighty cheers as their leader made his way to the stage up front. Alex met him there. Brian looked good. His eyes were alert and alive, soaking in these final sights before the end. Alex could tell there had been no tears. At this deeply emotional moment, Alex felt an urge to hug his friend, or at least shake his hand, but human touch was anathema. He saluted. “I’m glad you made it,” Alex said. “You didn’t think I’d change my mind, did you?” Brian replied. “Of course not. I knew you’d be here. You’re even early.” “I think it’s best to arrive early for one’s execution, don’t you?”

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Book:The Discipling Of Mytra
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“They stood together a moment; both her hands were in both of his. 'You've been my best friend,' she said. 'It was for you that I wanted — that I wanted to live. But I'm of no use to you.' Then it came over her more poignantly that she should not see him again. She could not accept that; she could not part with him that way. 'If you should send for me I'd come,' she said at last. 'Your husband won't consent to that.' 'Oh yes, I can arrange it.' 'I shall keep that for my last pleasure!' said Ralph. In answer to which she simply kissed him.”

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Book:The Portrait of a Lady
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“If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Harry stuck his wand up its nose and Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived." Harry and Ron tried to look as though this story wasn't news to them. "Well- in that case..." said Professor McGonagall, staring at the three of them, "Miss Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?" Hermione hung her head. Harry was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get them out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets. "Miss Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses." Hermione left. Professor McGonagall turned to Harry and Ron. "Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be informed of this. You may go." They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else. "We should have gotten more than ten points," Ron grumbled. "Five, you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's." "Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save her." "She might not have needed saving if we hadn't locked the thing in with her," Harry reminded him. They had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Pig snout," they said and entered. The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates. But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became their friend. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.”

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Book:Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
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“Vivien (spelled the same way as Vivien Leigh, lucky thing) was quite possibly the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen. She had a heart-shaped face, deep brown hair that gleamed in its Victory roll, and full curled lips painted scarlet. Her eyes were wide set and framed by dramatic arched brows just like Rita Hayworth's or Gene Tierney's, but it was more than that which made her beautiful. It wasn't the fine skirts and blouses she wore, it was the way she wore them, easily, casually; it was the strings of pearls strung airily around her neck, the brown Bentley she used to drive before it was handed over like a pair of boots to the Ambulance Service. It was the tragic history Dolly had learned in dribs and drabs- orphaned as a child, raised by an uncle, married to a handsome, wealthy author named Henry Jenkins, who held an important position with the Ministry of Information. "Dorothy? Come and put my sheets to rights and fetch my sleep mask." Ordinarily, Dolly might've been a bit envious to have a woman of that description living at such close quarters, but with Vivien it was different. All her life, Dolly had longed for a friend like her. Someone who really understood her (not like dull old Caitlin or silly frivolous Kitty), someone with whom she could stroll arm in arm down Bond Street, elegant and buoyant, as people turned to look at them, gossiping behind their hands about the dark leggy beauties, their careless charm. And now, finally, she'd found Vivien. From the very first time they'd passed each other walking up the Grove, when their eyes had met and they'd exchanged that smile- secretive, knowing, complicit- it had been clear to both of them that they were two of a kind and destined to be the very best of friends.”

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Book:The Secret Keeper
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“Social Eights are more loyal, more overtly friendly, and less aggressive. They are helpful Eights—people who are nurturing, protective, and concerned with the injustices that happen to people. Male Social Eights can look like Type Nines, and female Social Eights may resemble Type Twos. However, these Eights can be distinguished from Nines and Twos because they act in more direct, powerful ways, engage more readily in conflict, and express more power and control in seeking to protect and support other people.”

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Book:The Complete Enneagram: 27 Paths to Greater Self-Knowledge
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