Deliberately causing mayhem in Snape's Potions class was about as safe as poking a sleeping dragon in the eye.

I cared more about your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act.

He read the letter again, but could not take in any more meaning than he had done the first time and was reduced to staring at the handwriting itself. She had made her g's the same way he did : he searched through the letter for every one of them, and each felt like a friendly little wave glimpsed from behind a veil. The letter was an incredible treasure, proof that Lily Potter had lived, really lived, that her warm hand had once moved across this parchment, tracing ink into these letters, these words, words about him, Harry, her son.

He sounds exactly like Moody," said Harry quietly, tucking the letter away again inside his robes. "'Constant vigilance!' You'd think I walk around with my eyes shut, banging off the walls....

But Ron was staring at Hermione as though suddenly seeing her in a whole new light.
“Hermione, Neville’s right — you are a girl. . . .”
“Oh well spotted,” she said acidly.

Ron's indignation on his behalf was worth about a hundred points to him.