He read the letter again, but could not take in any more meaning than he had done the first time and was reduced to staring at the handwriting itself. She had made her g's the same way he did : he searched through the letter for every one of them, and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil. The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.
J. K. RowlingIt was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumbledore knew - and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents - that there was all the difference in the world.
J. K. RowlingAh! Bertie Bottโs Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then Iโm afraid Iโve rather lost my liking for them โ but I think Iโll be safe with a nice toffee, donโt you?โ He smiled and popped the golden-brown bean into his mouth. โAlas! Ear wax!
J. K. RowlingYeah, she shows signs of life if you do this," said Ron, and with his tongue he made soft clip-flopping noises. Umbridge sat bolt upright, looking wildly around.
J. K. RowlingThe elfโs eyes found him, and his lips trembled with the effort to form words. โHarry... Potter...โ 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.
J. K. Rowling