“She thought of sex with Miles. It had last happened three weeks previously. His performance was as predictable as a Masonic handshake.”

“Was it—was she making a real prediction?'Dumbledore looked mildly impressed.'Do you know, Harry, I think she might have been,' he said thoughtfully. 'Who'd have thought it? That brings her total of real predictions up to two. I should offer her a pay raise...”

“Would it hurt to die? All those times he had thought it was about to happen and escaped, he had never really thought of the thing itself: his will to live had always been so much stronger than his fear of death.”

“Finally, the truth. Lying with his face pressed into the dusty carpet of the office where he had once thought he was learning the secrets of victory, Harry understood at last that he was not supposed to survive.”

“She was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.“I never thought to look in here!” she whispered excitedly. “I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading.”“Light?” said Ron.”

“You'll write to me, won't you?" Albus asked his parents immediately, capitalizing on the momentary absence of his brother."Every day, if you want us to," said Ginny."Not every day," said Albus quickly. "James says most people only get letters from home about once a month.""We wrote to James three times a week last year," said Ginny."And you don't want to believe everything he tells you about Hogwarts," Harry put in. "He likes a laugh, your brother.”

“And Hermione was struggling to her feet in the wreckage, and three red-headed men were grouped on the ground where the wall had blasted apart. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand as they staggered and stumbled over stone and wood.'No - no - no!' someone was shouting. 'No! Fred! No!'And Percy was shaking his brother, and Ron was kneeling beside them, and Fred's eyes stared without seeing, the ghost of his last laugh still etched upon his face.”