Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black.

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.

Be good now, Potty...Weasel King.

The ones that love us never really leave us.

Once again I must ask too much of you, Harry.

In magic, man has to rely on himself. So, in religion, of course, you're looking for outside support but that's the appeal of magic.

Well, you split your soul, you see, and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one’s body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form . . .