Young People Are So Infernally Convinced That

Er — Have The Bludgers Ever Killed Anyone?” Harry Asked, Hoping He Sounded Offhand. “never At Hogwarts. We’ve Had A Couple Of Broken Jaws But Nothing Worse Than That. You Don’t Have To Worry About The Quaffle Or The Bludgers —” “— Unless They Crack My Head Open.” “don’t Worry, The Weasleys Are More Than A Match For The Bludgers — I Mean, They’re Like A Pair Of Human Bludgers Themselves.

Do You Remember Me Telling You We Are Practicing Non-verbal Spells, Potter?" "yes," Said Harry Stiffly. "yes, Sir." "there's No Need To Call Me "sir" Professor." The Words Had Escaped Him Before He Knew What He Was Saying.

It Is Impossible To Manufacture Or Imitate Love.

It Is Not About Striving For Immortality, But About Accepting Mortality.

Every Second He Breathed, The Smell Of The Grass, The Cool Air On His Face, Was So Precious: To Think That People Had Years And Years, Time To Waste, So Much Time It Dragged, And He Was Clinging To Each Second.