And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hands, staring down at his enemy's shell.
J. K. RowlingChristmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban.
J. K. RowlingBidding the wizard farewell, he turned to his daughter, who held up her finger and said, โDaddy, look โ one of the gnomes actually bit me!โ โHow wonderful! Gnome saliva is enormously beneficial!โ said Mr. Lovegood, seizing Lunaโs outstretched finger and examining the bleeding puncture marks. โLuna, my love, if you should feel any burgeoning talent today โ perhaps an unexpected urge to sing opera or to declaim in Mermish โ do not repress it! You may have been gifted by the Gernumblies!โ Ron, passing them in the opposite direction, let out a loud snort.
J. K. Rowling