Hallows, not Horcruxes.

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?

Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —” “THEN — I — DON’T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!” Harry roared.

A Horcrux is the complete opposite of a human being.

But in some ways I think it's braver to do it like this. And, to an extent, you know what? The worst that can happen is that everyone says, 'Well, that was dreadful, she should have stuck to writing for kids' and I can take that. So, yeah, I'll put it out there, and if everyone says, 'Well, that's shockingly bad – back to wizards with you', then obviously I won't be throwing a party. But I will live. I will live.

Devil’s Snare, Devil’s Snare . . . what did Professor Sprout say? — it likes the dark and the damp —” “So light a fire!” Harry choked. “Yes — of course — but there’s no wood!” Hermoine cried, wringing her hands. “HAVE YOU GONE MAD?” Ron bellowed. “ARE YOU A WITCH OR NOT?

I am indebted to the British welfare state; the very one that Mr Cameron would like to replace with charity handouts. When my life hit rock bottom, that safety net, threadbare though it had become under John Major's Government, was there to break the fall. I cannot help feeling, therefore, that it would have been contemptible to scarper for the West Indies at the first sniff of a seven-figure royalty cheque. This, if you like, is my notion of patriotism.