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.

It was not, after all, so easy to die.

Or perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends. Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends.

Some wounds run too deep for the healing.

I enjoyed the meetings, too. It was like having friends.

Harry was just thinking that all he needed was for Dumbledore's pet bird to die while he was all alone in the office with it, when the bird burst into flames.

I sometimes have a tendency to walk on the dark side.