Rose unearthed three crystal goblets that almost matched, and even found a tablecloth that hadn't been attacked by moths since its last public appearance.

Paddy Eagan, stay away from falling signs for a bit and you'll be as right as rain come the weekend.

And he, as a rotten thing, consumeth, as a garment that is moth eaten.

I just wondered where you —” Ron broke off, shrugging. “Nothing. I’m going back to bed.”
“Just thought you’d come nosing around, did you?” Harry shouted. He knew that Ron had no idea what he’d walked in on, knew he hadn’t done it on purpose, but he didn’t care — at this moment he hated everything about Ron, right down to the several inches of bare ankle showing beneath his pajama trousers.

Harry Potter & the Goblet...

For that was the terrible power of the dementors: to force their victims to relive the worst memories of their lives, and drown, powerless, in their
own despair. . . .