I Can't Give A Professor Love!

October Extinguished Itself In A Rush Of Howling Winds And Driving Rain And November Arrived, Cold As Frozen Iron, With Hard Frosts Every Morning And Icy Drafts That Bit At Exposed Hands And Faces.

His Hand Closed Automatically Around The Fake Horcrux But In Spite Of Everything, In Spite Of The Dark And Twisting Path He Saw Stretching Ahead For Himself, In Spite Of The Final Meeting With Voldemort He Knew Must Come Whether In A Month In A Year Or In Ten, He Felt His Heart Lift At The Thought That There Was Still One Last Golden Day Of Peace Left To Enjoy With Ron And Hermione.

I Was Ripped From My Body, I Was Less Than Spirit, Less Than The Meanest Ghost . . . But Still, I Was Alive.

There Is No Point In Apportioning Blame. What Is Done, Is Done.

Hello, Harry!” She Said. “er — My Name’s Barny,” Said Harry, Flummoxed. “oh, Have You Changed That Too?” She Asked Brightly. “how Did You Know — ?” “oh, Just Your Expression,” She Said. Like Her Father, Luna Was Wearing Bright Yellow Robes, Which She Had Accessorized With A Large Sunflower In Her Hair. Once You Got Over The Brightness Of It All, The General Effect Was Quite Pleasant. At Least There Were No Radishes Dangling From Her Ears.