I don’t want your help! Don’t you understand? I have to do this. I have to kill you. Or he’s going to kill me.
“There are all kinds of courage,” said Dumbledore, smiling. “It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom.”
Well, well. Look who’s here. You two shopping for your new dream home? Bit grand for you, isn’t it, Weasel-bee? Don’t your family sleep in, uh, one room?
We’ve all got both light and dark inside us. What matters is the part we choose to act on. That’s who we really are.
“He was her one and only chance to feel sane. She was his nights spent chasing a hurricane.” x
“A j-joke?” he whispered. “Here’s one: Th-there were three Slytherins… Three f-fucked up Slytherins. The first f-fell in love with… with the Gryffindor’s P-Princess and became g-good. The second fell in l-love with Ravenclaw’s An-Angel and became good, t-too. The third… the third did… n-nothing… b-but… but he tried…”
There was a prolonged moment of stillness and silence, and then Theo’s head lolled lifelessly to the side, hanging over Blaise’s arm. His hair fell across his forehead, partially sheilding his open eyes as they stared at nothing. The only thing that seemed to move at all was the blood still dribbling down Theo’s chin, slithering down his throat before gathering in the hollow of his collarbone.
But the rest of Theo was completely still. Locked in time. Dead.
Dead…
Theo would never be there again. He wouldn’t be anywhere. There would just be a space occupied by his absence. Just a hole without a voice, or a face, or fucking anything signature to Theo. Theo was gone. Permanently. Always.
— Isolation.