RIP my Prince. My sweet, sweet boy.

I will choose to remember you like this. And I wish I could write something more eloquent, something more deserving to celebrate your life that you would have so easily given for me, to describe how innocently you loved without asking for anything back, but right now, I can't.

Right now I will work on remembering you like this. With your head out the window. Or in my lap.

Rest now, my boy, in peace.

horcruxes or hallows?

beautiful and dark. raw and whimsical. left me aching.

boy in the cupboard under the stairs no more, but a man with five o'clock shadow and the dull ache of loss, with hands that have felt a body seep life and eyes that have seen too much.

so young, to be fighting so many.

i watched until my eyes hurt.

RIP Dobby.

"Parents," said Harry,

"shouldn't leave their kids unless - unless they've got to."

.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."

-

i literally shivered to the tips of my toes the first time i read this.

Kingsley was striding

backward and forward, glancing up at the sky every time he turned. Harry was reminded of Uncle Vernon pacing the living room a million years ago.

-

it really does feel like a million years ago.

"Our best chance is to use decoys.

Even You-Know-Who can't split himself into seven."