“Everything in my room was old and faded, but I loved that about it. It felt like there might be secrets in the walls, in the four-poster bed, especially in that music box.”

“They reached their familiar, circular dormitory with its five four-poster beds, and Harry, looking around, felt he was home at last.”

“My room is a twittering gray box with a wall / there and there and there again.”

“I hover over the expensive Scotch and then the Armagnac, but finally settle on a glass of rich red claret. I put it near my nose and nearly pass out. It smells of old houses and aged wood and dark secrets, but also of hard, hot sunshine through ancient shutters and long, wicked afternoons in a four-poster bed. It's not a wine, it's a life, right there in the glass.”

“I like your room," I said truthfully."Yeah? I like it too. Mom tried to guy it all up when I left for school but...""Guy it all up?" I asked, cocking a questioning brow at him."Yeah. When I came back my first break from college, she had decorated everything in swimming. Water waves bedspread. Michael Phelps posters, my old trophies and medals on my shelf. She even had a poster over my bed that said 'Swimmers Do It Right'." I laughed and then covered it with my hand. "Yeah, so I fixed it. I like things plain, not loud.”

“He missed Hogwarts so much it was like having a constant stomachache. He missed the castle, with its secret passageways and ghosts, his classes, … the mail arriving by owl, eating banquets in the Great Hall, sleeping in his four-poster bed in the tower dormitory, visiting the gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin next to the Forbidden Forest in the grounds, and especially, Quidditch, the most popular sport in the wizarding world”