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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
J.K. Rowling
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July 31 - August 25, 2025
The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death.
“We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.”
His will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death.
Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart?
Dumbledore knew, as Voldemort knew, that Harry would not let anyone else die for him now that he had discovered it was in his power to stop it.
Like rain on a cold window, these thoughts pattered against the hard surface of the incontrovertible truth, which was that he must die. I must die. It must end.
It was not, after all, so easy to die. Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: To think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second.
I open at the close.
“You’ve been so brave.”
“Stay close to me,” he said quietly.
And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.
“Harry Potter,” he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the spitting fire. “The Boy Who Lived.”
Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his —
before he betrayed fear —
“Ah,” said Dumbledore, smiling still more broadly. “That is the question, isn’t it? On the whole, dear boy, I think not.”
But then, if he had been able to understand, he could not be Lord Voldemort, and might never have murdered at all.
It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those who, like you, have leadership thrust upon them, and take up the mantle because they must, and find to their own surprise that they wear it well.
You are the worthy possessor of the Hallows.”
The realization of what would happen next settled gradually over Harry in the long minutes, like softly falling snow.
But I know this, Harry, that you have less to fear from returning here than he does.”
“Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.
then we say good-bye for the present.”
“Tell me one last thing,” said Harry. “Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?”
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
“Is Draco alive? Is he in the castle?” The whisper was barely audible; her lips were an inch from his ear, her head bent so low that her long hair shielded his face from the onlookers. “Yes,” he breathed back.
“He is dead!” Narcissa Malfoy called to the watchers.
but the enormous hands that lifted him into the air were exceedingly gentle.
“NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU
“Nobody,” said Harry simply. “There are no more Horcruxes. It’s just you and me. Neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good. . . .”
Think, and try for some remorse, Riddle. . . .” “What is this?”
“The true master of the Elder Wand was Draco Malfoy.”
“Avada Kedavra!” “Expelliarmus!”
Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the snakelike face vacant and unknowing.
know it’s powerful,” said Harry wearily. “But I was happier with mine. So . . .”
He laid the broken wand upon the headmaster’s desk, touched it with the very tip of the Elder Wand, and said, “Reparo.”
“I’ve had enough trouble for a lifetime.”
The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.
