Love Wins. It Does Win. We Know

For Instance, This New Idea That You-know-who Can Kill With A Single Glance From His Eyes. That’s A Basilisk, Listeners. One Simple Test: Check Whether The Thing That’s Glaring At You Has Got Legs. If It Has, It’s Safe To Look Into Its Eyes, Although If It Really Is You-know-who, That’s Still Likely To Be The Last Thing You Ever Do.

He Did Not Know Or Care Whether They Were Wizards Or Muggles, Friends Or Foes; All He Cared About Was That A Dark Stain Was Spreading Across Dobby's Front, And That He Had Stretched Out His Thin Arms To Harry With A Look Of Supplication. Harry Caught Him And Laid Him Sideways On The Cool Grass. "dobby, No, Don't Die, Don't Die -" The Elf's Eyes Found Him, And His Lips Trembled With The Effort To Form Words. "harry...potter..." And Then With A Little Shudder The Elf Became Quite Still, And His Eyes Were Nothing More Than Great Glassy Orbs, Sprinkled With Light From The Stars They Could Not See.

Go On, Have A Pasty," Said Harry, Who Had Never Had Anything To Share Before Or, Indeed, Anyone To Share It With. It Was A Nice Feeling, Sitting There With Ron, Eating Their Way Through All Harry's Pasties, Cakes, And Candies (the Sandwiches Lay Forgotten).

Pagford, Which By Night Was No More Than A Cluster Of Twinkling Lights In A Dark Hollow Far Below, Was Emerging Into Chilly Sunlight.

There's A Time And A Place For Getting A Smart Mouth.