I made a birdhouse,” he said confidently. “And I painted it to look like Hogwarts.

I'm sitting in the bleachers, watching longingly as all the boys and umbumped girls in my Personal Health and Fitness class play Muggle Quidditch. I don't even like the game very much, I think it's silly, but I so miss physical activity that I'd be thrilled if I could run around the gymnasium with a broom between my legs, chasing after the human snitch wearing a gold pinny.

Zen cuts straight through the Quidditch match in progress and almost gets taken down by a Beater hurling a Nerf quaffle right at his machopartes.

I have a theory that the world is broken up into two kinds of people."
"Yeah?"
"Yep. On the one side are the people who love the Harry Pottery books and wish that they could attend Hogwarts and have Ron and Hermione for best friends and vanquish Death Eaters and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
She's smiling at me, and she's just so fucking cute. I have to ask: "And the other side?"
Aimee shrugs. "Douchebags.

To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.

-Albus Dumbledore to Harry Potter, page 299

Freedome and responsibility is the same thing.