Brains like that you could be a Death Eater son.
Brains like that you could be a Death Eater son.
Harry, you wonderful boy, you brave, brave man.
I love to read. Most kids don't, but I'm different.
Only the difference between truth and lies, courage and cowardice.
Then she was kissing him as she had never kissed him before...and it was blissful oblivion, better than firewhisky; she was the only real thing in the world.
Cinderella? Snow White? What's that? An illness?
He can run faster than Severus Snape confronted with shampoo.
I speak now, Harry Potter, directly to you. You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. I shall wait for one hour in the Forbidden Forest. If, at the end of that hour, you have not come to me, have not given yourself up, then battle recommences. This time, I shall enter the fray myself, Harry Potter, and I shall find you, and I shall punish every last man, woman, and child who has tried to conceal you from me. One hour. -Voldemort
Parents shouldn't leave their kids unless -unless they've got to.
There it was again: Choose what to believe. He wanted the truth. Why was everybody so determined that he should not get it?
Contemplating the task ahead would not make it easier or the water warmer.
He felt his heart pounding fiercely in his chest. How strange that in his dread of death, it pumped all the harder, valiantly keeping him alive. But it would have to stop, and soon. Its beats were numbered. How many would there be time for, as he rose and walked through the castle for the last time, out into the grounds and into the forest?
I think the answer is: a circle that has no beginning.
Perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it.
There was a brief silence in which the distant echo of Hagrid smashing down a wooden front door seemed to reverberate through the intervening years.
Dawn was breaking over the horizon, shell pink and faintly gold...
He felt that he was still groping in the dark; he had chosen his path but kept looking back, wondering whether he had misread the signs, whether he should not have taken the other way.
If you have to ask, you'll never know. If you know, you need only ask.
Potter! There are hundreds of people thundering through my pub!
There's the silver lining I'm looking for.
Death is but crossing the line, as friends do the sea.
He lay face down, listening to the silence. He was perfectly alone. Nobody was watching. Nobody else was there. He was not perfectly sure that he was there himself.
I'll join you when Hell freezes over.
Power was my weakness and my temptation.
They're evacuating the younger kids and everyone's meeting in the Great Hall to get organized... We're fighting.
And all along the corridor the statues and suits of armor jumped down from their plinths, and from the echoing crashes from the floors above and below, Harry knew that their fellows throughout the castle had done the same.
Dobby has no master. Dobby is a free elf!
Her son lives. He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?
I'm going to keep going until I succeed - or die. Don't think I don't know how this might end. I've known it for years.
Room of Requirement, of course! Surpassed itself, hasn't it? the Carrows were chasing me, and I knew I had just one chance for a hideout: I managed to get through the door and this is what I found! Well, it wasn't exactly like this when I arrived, it was a load smaller, there was only one hammock and just Gryffindor hangings. But it's expanded as more and more of the D.A. have arrived.
Vot is the point of being an international Quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken?
And Harry, with the unerring skill of the Seeker, caught the wand in his free hand as Voldemort fell backward, arms splayed, the slit pupils of the scarlet eyes rolling upward. 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 hands, staring down at his enemy's shell.
DUMBLEDORE'S ARMY, STILL RECRUITING.
Hermione was screaming again: the sound went through Harry like physical pain.
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.
She's as nutty as squirrel poo.
Wands are only as powerful as the wizards who use them. Some wizards just like to boast that theirs are bigger and better than other people's.
And his knowledge remained woefully incomplete, Harry! That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped...
Even You-Know-Who can't split himself into seven.
He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give me a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the Mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could...
It was not, after all, so easy to die.
Silence fell between the four of them as they looked up at the sky. There was no sign of movement, the stars stared back, unblinking, indifferent, unobscured by flying friends. Where was Ron? Where were Fred and Mr Weasley? Where were Bill, Fleur, Tonks, Mad Eye, Mundungus?
We did it, we bashed them wee Potter's the one, and Voldy's gone moldy, so now let's have fun!
And now a chill settled over them where they stood, and Harry heard the rasping breath of the dementors that patrolled the outer trees. They would not affect him now. The fact of his own survival burned inside him, a talisman against them, as though his father's stag kept guardian in his heart.
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.
He's gone, Harry told himself. He's gone. He had to keep thinking it as he washed and dressed, as though repetition would dull the shock of it. He's gone and he's not coming back. And that was the simple truth of it, Harry knew, because their protective enchantments meant that it would be impossible, once they vacated this spot, for Ron to find them again.
It's your one last chance … Be a man … try … Try for some remorse …
Slowly, very slowly, he sat up, and as he did so he felt more alive, and more aware of his own living body than ever before. Why had he never appreciated what a miracle he was, brain and nerve and bounding heart? It would all be gone...or at least, he would be gone from it. His breath came slow and deep, and his mouth and throat were completely dry, but so were his eyes.
We teachers are rather good at magic, you know.
And then he greeted Death as an old friend, and went with him gladly, and, equals, they departed this life.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories