Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Harry Potter, #7)

by J.K. Rowling

What did you say to one another at the end of sixteen years’ solid dislike?

The realisation crashed over him: he felt ashamed of himself as the tears stung his eyes. The owl had been his companion, his one great link with the magical world whenever he had been forced to return to the Dursleys.

scathing about Dumbledore’s willingness to trust people.

‘Harry, he’s taking over the Ministry and the newspapers and half the wizarding world! Don’t let him inside your head too!’

Ron relieved his feelings by aiming a kick at a gnome who was peering out from behind one of the new Flutterby Bushes.

‘The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.’

And then he broke: he was nothing, nothing but pain and terror, and he must hide himself, not here in the rubble of the ruined house,

where the child was trapped and screaming, but far away … far away …

Luna had decorated her bedroom ceiling with five beautifully painted faces: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville. They were not moving as the portraits at Hogwarts moved, but there was a certain magic about them

They put up the tent and retreated inside it, where Ron made them tea. After their narrow escape, the chilly, musty old place felt like home, safe, familiar and friendly.

‘I’d say that it’s one short step from “wizards first” to “purebloods first”, and then to “Death Eaters”,’ replied Kingsley. ‘We’re all human, aren’t we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving.’

‘Thank you so much, Dobby, for rescuing me from that cellar. It’s so unfair that you had to die, when you were so good and brave. I’ll always remember what you did for us. I hope you’re happy now.’

You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest … one hour …

But he was home. Hogwarts was the first and best home he had known. He and Voldemort and Snape, the abandoned boys, had all found home here …

those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it. Those

You are the true master of death, because the true master does not seek to run away from Death. He accepts that he must die, and understands that there are far, far worse things in the living world than dying.’

‘Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all, those who live without love.

‘Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?’

The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.