Harry Potter has kindly joined us for my rebirthing party. One might go so far as to call him my guest of honor.

I'll be writing until I can't write anymore. It's a compulsion with me. I love writing.

Snape's patronus was a doe,' said Harry, 'the same as my mother's because he loved her for nearly all of his life, from when they were children.

I feel I owe you another explanation Harry," said Dumbledore hesitantly. "You may, perhaps, wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess...that I rather thought...you had enough responsibility to be going on with." Harry looked up at him and saw a tear trickling down Dumbledore's face into his long silver beard.

It's just hard," Harry said finally, in a low voice, "to realize he won't write me again

Well, think back," said Harry. "Have you ever let it slip that you'd like to go out in public with the words 'My Sweetheart' round your neck?

And his knowledge remained woefully incomplete, Harry! That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped.