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Kindle Notes & Highlights
by
J.K. Rowling
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April 1 - April 5, 2017
Neville, who had emerged from nowhere brandishing armfuls of Venomous Tentacula, which looped itself happily around the nearest Death Eater and began reeling him in.
Then, with a bright white flash and a crack, a crystal ball fell on top of his head, and he crumpled to the ground and did not move. “I have more!” shrieked Professor Trelawney from over the banisters. “More for any who want them! Here —”
“How — how’re we going to get in?” panted Ron. “I can — see the place — if we just had — Crookshanks again —” “Crookshanks?” wheezed Hermione, bent double, clutching her chest. “Are you a wizard, or what?” “Oh — right — yeah —” Ron looked around, then directed his wand at a twig on the ground and said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”
unable to stand. The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Harry could not see Fred’s body, because his family surrounded him. George was kneeling at his head; Mrs. Weasley was lying across Fred’s chest, her body shaking, Mr. Weasley stroking her hair while tears cascaded down his cheeks.
The dead lay in a row in the middle of the Hall. Harry could not see Fred’s body, because his family surrounded him. George was kneeling at his head; Mrs. Weasley was lying across Fred’s chest, her body shaking, Mr. Weasley stroking her hair while tears cascaded down his cheeks.
“You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily’s son.” “He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone —” “The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does.” There was a long pause, and slowly Snape regained control of himself, mastered his own breathing. At last he said, “Very well. Very well. But never — never tell, Dumbledore! This must be between us! Swear it! I cannot bear . . . especially Potter’s son . . . I want your word!” “My word, Severus, that I shall never reveal the best of you?” Dumbledore sighed,
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“Karkaroff intends to flee if the Mark burns.” “Does he?” said Dumbledore softly, as Fleur Delacour and Roger Davies came giggling in from the grounds. “And are you tempted to join him?” “No,” said Snape, his black eyes on Fleur’s and Roger’s retreating figures. “I am not such a coward.” “No,” agreed Dumbledore. “You are a braver man by far than Igor Karkaroff. You know, I sometimes think we Sort too soon. . . .” He walked away, leaving Snape looking stricken. . . .
“You alone know whether it will harm your soul to help an old man avoid pain and humiliation,” said Dumbledore. “I ask this one great favor of you, Severus, because death is coming for me as surely as the Chudley Cannons will finish bottom of this year’s league. I confess I should prefer a quick, painless exit to the protracted and messy affair it will be if, for instance, Greyback is involved — I hear Voldemort has recruited him? Or dear Bellatrix, who likes to play with her food before she eats it.”
Dumbledore would understand why I would commit suicide (legally assisted or not) if I got a disease that I wasn’t going to survive and it was going to hurt like hell on the way out.
“But this is touching, Severus,” said Dumbledore seriously. “Have you grown to care for the boy, after all?” “For him?” shouted Snape. “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. Dumbledore watched her fly away, and as her silvery glow faded he turned back to Snape, and his eyes were full of tears. “After all this time?” “Always,” said Snape.
could ever have been friends with Gellert Grindelwald. I think her mind’s going, personally! Lots of love,
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?
Harry took one glance back at the entrance of the Great Hall. People were moving around, trying to comfort each other, drinking, kneeling beside the dead, but he could not see any of the people he loved, no hint of Hermione, Ron, Ginny, or any of the other Weasleys, no Luna. He felt he would have given all the time remaining to him for just one last look at them; but then, would he ever have the strength to stop looking? It was better like this.
James was exactly the same height as Harry. He was wearing the clothes in which he had died, and his hair was untidy and ruffled, and his glasses were a little lopsided, like Mr. Weasley’s.
giants roared as the Death Eaters rose together,
Harry thought inexplicably of Ginny, and her blazing look, and the feel of her lips on his — Voldemort had raised his wand.
He saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone.
“Harry.” He spread his arms wide, and his hands were both whole and white and undamaged. “You wonderful boy. You brave, brave man. Let us walk.”
“Hallows, not Horcruxes.”
“They say he showed remorse in later years, alone in his cell at Nurmengard. I hope that it is true. I would like to think he did feel the horror and shame of what he had done. Perhaps that lie to Voldemort was his attempt to make amends . . . to prevent Voldemort from taking the Hallow . . .” “. . . or maybe from breaking into your tomb?” suggested Harry, and Dumbledore dabbed his eyes.
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.”
“Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?”
“BANE!” Hagrid’s unexpected bellow nearly forced Harry’s eyes open. “Happy now, are yeh, that yeh didn’ fight, yeh cowardly bunch o’ nags? Are yeh happy Harry Potter’s — d-dead . . . ?”
“NO!” The scream was the more terrible because he had never expected or dreamed that Professor McGonagall could make such a sound.
With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake’s head, which spun high into the air, gleaming in the light flooding from the entrance hall, and Voldemort’s mouth was open in a scream of fury that nobody could hear, and the snake’s body thudded to the ground at his feet —
Hall, still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying left and right; Harry
their head, the locket of Regulus Black bouncing on his chest, was Kreacher, his bullfrog’s voice audible even above this din: “Fight! Fight! Fight for my Master, defender of house-elves! Fight the Dark Lord, in the name of brave Regulus! Fight!”
“NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” Mrs. Weasley threw off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger. “OUT OF MY WAY!” shouted Mrs. Weasley to the three girls, and with a swipe of her wand she began to duel. Harry watched with terror and elation as Molly Weasley’s wand slashed and twirled, and Bellatrix Lestrange’s smile faltered and became a snarl. Jets of light flew from both wands, the floor around the witches’ feet became hot and cracked; both women were fighting to kill. “No!” Mrs. Weasley cried as a few students
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You don’t learn from your mistakes, Riddle, do you?” “You dare —” “Yes, I dare,” said Harry. “I know things you don’t know, Tom Riddle. I know lots of important things that you don’t.
“So it all comes down to this, doesn’t it?” whispered Harry. “Does the wand in your hand know its last master was Disarmed? Because if it does . . . I am the true master of the Elder Wand.”
“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. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse, and Harry stood with two wands in his hand, staring down at his enemy’s shell.
They moved Voldemort’s body and laid it in a chamber off the Hall, away from the bodies of Fred, Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, and fifty others who had died fighting him.
He saw Neville, the sword of Gryffindor lying beside his plate as he ate, surrounded by a knot of fervent admirers.
We did it, we bashed them, wee Potter’s the one, And Voldy’s gone moldy, so now let’s have fun!
“Can we go up?” he asked the gargoyle. “Feel free,” groaned the statue.
then an earsplitting noise made him cry out, thinking of curses and returning Death Eaters and the rebirth of Voldemort —
As his wand resealed, red sparks flew out of its end. Harry knew that he had succeeded. He picked up the holly and phoenix wand and felt a sudden warmth in his fingers, as though wand and hand were rejoicing at their reunion.
The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.
