I would like to be remembered as someone who did the best she could with the talent she had.

Hallows, not Horcruxes.

Harry moved the tip of his eagle-feather quill down the page, frowning as he looked for something that would help him write his essay, “Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless — discuss.

Er-my-nee," Ron croaked unexpectedly from between them.

A lemon drop. They're a kind of Muggle sweet I'm rather fond of.

He yearned not to feel... He wished he could rip out his heart, his innards, everything that was screaming inside him.

My brain surprises even me sometimes.