Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Book 7)

Many small villages and hamlets attracted several magical families, who banded together for mutual support and protection.

It was like listening to a half-remembered voice.

he imagined Voldemort, a hundred yards above them as they spoke, looking for a way to penetrate what Harry visualised as a great, transparent bubble.

perhaps because Harry’s descent into listlessness galvanised his dormant leadership qualities,

‘It is against our code to speak of the secrets of Gringotts. We are the guardians of fabulous treasures. We have a duty to the objects placed in our care, which were, so often, wrought by our fingers.’

Tears were sliding down from behind the half-moon spectacles into the long silver beard, and the pride and the gratitude emanating from him filled Harry with the same balm as phoenix song.

while inside him a kind of quiet eruption sent joy and grief thundering in equal measure through his veins.

refusing to acknowledge its pain or its invitation.

Even You-Know-Who can’t split himself into seven.’ Harry caught Hermione’s eye and looked away at once.