Taunting Death ... means pitting oneself against a wily enemy who cannot lose.

He’s gone, Harry told himself. He’s gone. He had to keep thinking it as he washed and dressed, as though repetition would dull the shock of it. He’s gone and he’s not coming back. And that was the simple truth of it, Harry knew, because their protective enchantments meant that it would be impossible, once they vacated this spot, for Ron to find them again.

It sort of floated toward me,” said Ron, illustrating the movement with his free index finger, “right to my chest, and then — it just went straight through. It was here,” he touched a point close to his heart, “I could feel it, it was hot. And once it was inside me I knew what I was supposed to do, I knew it would take me where I needed to go. So I Disapparated and came out on the side of a hill. There was snow everywhere. . . .

Parry Otter, the Chosen Boy Who - well - something of that sort.

There,” she said softly. “Now he could be sleeping.

Those who choose not to empathize enable real monsters, for without ever committing an act of outright evil ourselves we collude with it through our apathy.

I heard from my dear friend Tiberius Ogden, that you can produce a Patronus? For a bonus point...? Harry raised his wand, looked directly at Umbridge, and imagined her being sacked. Expecto Patronum! The silver stag erupted from the end of his wand and cantered the length of the hall.