It Was His Own Grief Turned Magically

I Heard From My Dear Friend Tiberius Ogden, That You Can Produce A Patronus? For A Bonus Point...? Harry Raised His Wand, Looked Directly At Umbridge, And Imagined Her Being Sacked. Expecto Patronum! The Silver Stag Erupted From The End Of His Wand And Cantered The Length Of The Hall.

Let My Girls Be Hermiones, Rather Than Pansy Parkinsons.

Hermione Was Screaming Again: The Sound Went Through Harry Like Physical Pain.

He Put His Foot On One Pedal, Scooted A Few Yards And Swung His Other Leg Over The Saddle. He Soared Left Into The Vertiginously Sloping Hillside Road And Sped, Without Touching His Brakes ... The Hedgerows And Sky Blurred; He Imagined Himself In A Velodrome As The Wind Whipped His Hair Clean...

As For The Fact That Malfoy, Crabbe, And Goyle Apeared To Be Going Their Different Ways When They Were Usually Inseparable, These Things Happened As People Got Older--ron And Hermione, Harry Reflected Sadly, Were Living Proof.