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Kindle Notes & Highlights
“I don’t think you’re a waste of space.”
Trumpetlike sounds from the back of the marquee told everyone that Hagrid had taken out one of his own tablecloth-sized handkerchiefs.
“The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.”
HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF.
Fred’s eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.
“Expecto Patronum!” From the tip of his wand burst the silver doe: She landed on the office floor, bounded once across the office, and soared out of the window.
The scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that Professor McGonagall could make such a sound.
Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled Harry with the same balm as phoenix song.
