I Don't Think About Who The Audience

Whatever Happens To Your Body, Your Soul Will Survive, Untouched.

Because To Confide A Part Of Your Soul To Something That Can Think And Move For Itself Is Obviously A Very Risky Business.

And His Knowledge Remained Woefully Incomplete, Harry! That Which Voldemort Does Not Value, He Takes No Trouble To Comprehend. Of House-elves And Children's Tales, Of Love, Loyalty, And Innocence, Voldemort Knows And Understands Nothing. Nothing. That They All Have A Power Beyond His Own, A Power Beyond The Reach Of Any Magic, Is A Truth He Has Never Grasped.

Hermione: You! You Foul, Loathsome, Evil Little Cocroach! Ron: Hermione, No! He's No Worth It.

Naturally Shirley Had Known, As They Slid Stock Words And Phrases Back And Forth Between Them Like Beads On An Abacus, That Howard Must Be As Brimful Of Ecstasy As She Was; But To Express These Feelings Out Loud, When The News Of Death Was Still Fresh In The Air, Would Have Been Tantamount To Dancing Naked And Shrieking Obscenities, And Howard And Shirley Were Clothed, Always, In An Invisible Layer Of Decorum That They Never Laid Aside.