There was no press involvement, there was no pressure. Life was very pure and it became more complicated.

If she could have died...if she could have disappeared forever...but the solid surface of things refused to dissolve around her, and her body, her hateful hermaphrodite's body, continued in its stubborn, lumpen way, to live.

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

Words are, in my not-so-humble opinion, our most inexhaustible source of magic. Capable of both inflicting injury, and remedying it.

No, it was honest," said Harry. "One of the only honest things you've said to me. You don't care whether I live or die, but you do care that I help you convince everyone you're winning the war against Voldemort.

Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself.

The world had ended, so why had the battle not ceased, the castle fallen silent in horror, and every combatant laid down their arms?