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.

refusing to acknowledge its pain or its invitation.

Hearing familiar, friendly voices was an extraordinary tonic;

‘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.’

‘Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?’

It was like listening to a half-remembered voice.

Every second he breathed, the smell of the grass, the cool air on his face, was so precious: to think that people had years and years, time to waste, so much time it dragged, and he was clinging to each second.

It was so very typical of his uncle to put his hopes in the establishment, even within this world that he despised and mistrusted.

They gazed at each other; Harry felt that the answer was dangling invisibly in the air above them, tantalisingly close.