Well, that was a bit stupid of you,” said Ginny angrily, “seeing as you don’t know anyone but me who’s been possessed by You-Know-Who, and I can tell you how it feels.” Harry remained quite still as the impact of these words hit him. Then he turned on the spot to face her. “I forgot,” he said. “Lucky you,” said Ginny coolly. “I’m sorry,” Harry said, and he meant it.

Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.

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.

Look, why don't you go talk to Ron about all this?" Harry asked. "Well, I would, but he's always asleep when I go and see him!" said Lavender fretfully. "Is he?" said Harry, surprised, for he had found Ron perfectly alert every time he had been up to the hospital wing.

On her daughter, Jessica: Kids at her school will sidle up to me and say, Does Jessica know what happens in book 4? Does Jessica know the title of book 4? And I keep saying, No! There is no point kidnapping her, taking her around back of the bike shed, and torturing her for information.

Hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, even in the wizarding world.

You don't have sex near unicorns. It's an ironclad rule. It's tacky.