The sky was a cold iron-grey, like the underside of a shield. A sharp breeze lifted the hems of skirts and rattled the leaves on the immature trees; a spiteful, chill wind that sought out your weakest places, the nape of your neck and your knees, and which denied you the comfort of dreaming, of retreating a little from reality.

Nothing more or less than the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts.

We teachers are rather good at magic, you know.

It's the ability to resist failure, in many ways, or use failure that often leads to the greatest success, isn't it?

I haven’t got the heart to take the mickey out of him, even,” said Fred, looking over at Ron’s crumpled figure. “Mind you . . . when he missed the fourteenth . . .” He made wild motions with his arms as though doing an upright doggy-paddle. “Well, I’ll save it for parties, eh?

Why are they all staring?" demanded Albus as he and Rose craned around to look at the other students. "Don’t let it worry you," said Ron. "It’s me. I’m extremely famous.

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.