Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter, #5)

by J.K. Rowling

An awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing in the confined space, issuing from the burning letter on the table. “REMEMBER MY LAST, PETUNIA.” Aunt Petunia looked as though she might faint.

slightly stunned silence greeted the end of this speech, then Ron said, “One person can’t feel all that at once, they’d explode.” “Just because you’ve got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn’t mean we all have,” said Hermione nastily, picking up her quill again.

“He’s got Padfoot!” he shouted. “He’s got Padfoot at the place where it’s hidden!”

“Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human —” “THEN — I — DON’T — WANT — TO — BE — HUMAN!” Harry roared, and he seized one of the delicate silver instruments from the spindle-legged table beside him and flung it across the room. It shattered into a hundred tiny pieces against the wall.

Indifference and neglect often do much more damage than outright dislike. .

a part of Harry still believed that if he had only pulled back that veil, he would have found Sirius looking back at him, greeting him, perhaps, with his laugh like a bark.

“Good for you. Just choose someone — better — next time.” He cast Harry an oddly furtive look as he said it.