“Ben is ten and he’s dead. But he’s not gone. Not for me.”
“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.”
“Valkyrie, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your friend is most likely dead.” “Of course he’s dead. He’s a skeleton.”
“She just keeps saying "He’s gone.”
“He’s had ten years to make you fall in love with him. I haven’t had ten weeks! Tell me how that’s fair!”
“There are nights when the world is completely askew because he’s gone.”