“Oh, of course," said Ron, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I forgot we'll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library.”

“What are you doing with all those books anyway?" Ron asked, limping back to his bed. "Just trying to decide which ones to take with us," said Hermione. "When we're looking for the Horcruxes.""Oh, of course," said Ron, clapping a hand to his forehead. "I forgot we'll be hunting down Voldemort in a mobile library".”

“You seem to be drowning twice," said Hermione."Oh, am I?" said Ron peering down at his predictions. "I'd better change one of them to getting trampled by a rampaging Hippogriff.”

“I love you, Hermione,” said Ron, sinking back, rubbing his eyes wearily.Hermione turned faintly pink, but merely said, “Don’t let Lavender hear you saying that.”“I won’t,” said Ron into his hands. “Or maybe I will . . . then she’ll ditch me . . .”

“Harry — I think I've just understood something! I've got to go to the library!”And she sprinted away, up the stairs.“What does she understand?” said Harry distractedly, still looking around, trying to tell where the voice had come from.“Loads more than I do,” said Ron, shaking his head.“But why’s she got to go to the library?”“Because that’s what Hermione does,” said Ron, shrugging. “When in doubt, go to the library.”

“Because that's what Hermione does,' said Ron, shrugging. 'When in doubt, go to the library.”

“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.”