Ultimately, we all have to decide for ourselves what constitutes failure, but the world is quite eager to give you a set of criteria if you let it.

The wand chooses the wizard.

Extraordinary imagination, especially in a witch world. Also friendship.

Braggarts and rogues, dogs and scoundrels, drive them out, Harry Potter, see them off!

You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you’ll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no . . . anything. There’s no chance at all of recovery. You’ll just — exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever . . . lost.

Ginny, listen... I can’t be involved with you anymore. We’ve got to stop seeing each other. We can’t be together.” “It’s for some stupid, noble reason, isn’t it?

You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, And unafraid of toil.